The Pirate Affair
Chapter Two
Copyright 1997
by AUTHOR22@aol.com

Shortly before the Captain of the Bloody Cutlass had allowed his two 
slaves to go on deck, a small ship, built for speed left a port some 
30 miles south east of where the Cutlass had been moored. They were 
headed on the same course. This ship was not rigged as a square sailer. 
Her owner, and captain had her built along the lines of small 
vessels he had seen in the orient. She was long and narrow. She had 
little cargo space, and she carried no passengers. But she was fast. 
She carried no weapons; her speed was her defense. Any Pirate ship 
that might attempt to overtake her would soon see their prey disappearing 
over the distant horizon, and to safety.

The Seagull operated with a crew of six: Its captain and owner, the 
Quarter Master, and four seamen.

The seamen were young men who had developed a love for the sea. One of 
the four was a few years older with more experience, and even though 
he was a seaman, he had been given the responsibility of overseeing 
the other three.

Everyone on board took turns at the helm.

The Seagull usually carried valuable cargo; gold for military payroll, 
money being sent between governments, or important messages. She was, 
in fact, a courier.

While she could out sail any square sailer, she needed enough initial 
distance between her and a tempted pursuer to get underway. Unless she 
was either going into or out of port she always kept at least twenty 
miles off shore. She would be difficult to surprise, and surprise was 
her only Achilles heel.

There was a camaraderie amongst the crew that was not commonly found 
aboard ships. They genuinely liked each other. In port they would 
visit the same pubs, usually try to score with local girls, and never 
visited the brothels.

If they were at sea too long, they might secretly cast an appreciative 
eye at one of their shipmates. It was always done surreptitiously. 
Their only sexual release came in the form of their own right or left 
hand, and always in the privacy of their own hammock.

If any of them heard one of their shipmates accommodating themselves, 
they always ignored it. And as they would approach that point of 
ejaculation they would be fantasizing about the cute little wench they 
had recently had their way with in their last port.

The crew slept in the focsle cabin. In port it accommodated 4 hammocks, 
but at sea one of the four was always on deck, so they stowed 
one of the berths.

The Captain and the Quarter Master shared a cabin which was located 
directly below the helm. That larger cabin also served as the ship's 
galley.

They had known for several days that they were going to be on a long 
voyage. They had not been told what they would be carrying, but as 
usual it would be valuable.

It wasn't till late in the evening that four horsemen had arrived, 
armed to the teeth. They carried a medium sized chest weighing enough 
so that it took two of them to bring it on board.

The cargo on most ships was common knowledge. The Seagull was the 
exception. 

Whatever was in that chest was valuable enough to demand a handsome 
fee. It would be a none stop sail to the port of New Orleans.

Most of the previous day had been spent loading an unusual amount of 
supplies; water, hard tack, and that tropical fruit usually found in 
Spain: Oranges. 

Denny, the youngest of the crew, also did most of the cooking. He had 
a talent for making the humdrum something extraordinary.

He had taken quite a ribbing from the crew, including the captain, 
when he first joined the Seagull. He was fresh off of the farm and 
just 17. He had never fucked anyone with the exception of his right 
hand, and to that practice he was addicted. One of his buddies had 
counted six times in the first day he had been on board. Almost immediately 
everyone started calling him Jack. Even though only the crew 
understood the reason for the nickname, it did stick.

Jack was tender in appearance. His rosy cheeks, his slim waist, and 
his boyish grin merged with his virginal, yet eager sexuality. The 
resulting image was one which prompted his shipmates to get the lad 
laid.

Jose was the other youngster. However, he was a city boy. His knowledge 
of the streets of el Havana was legendary. He knew more about how 
and where to get anything that the ship or her crew might need, than 
even the Captain.

The Captain of the Seagull soon learned that the two lads made a good 
team when it came to laying in supplies. Jack knew what food items he 
wanted, and Jose always purchased them at an amazingly low price.

The crew were better fed than those of any other ship.

Life on board this unique craft while not leisurely, was a far cry 
from what most men at sea experienced.

The Captain was a stickler for cleanliness, and this was reflected in 
everything that had to do with the Seagull.  Her crew were always 
clean, and well dressed. In port the sails were always furled. All 
lines were coiled, and her hardwood decks were kept scrubbed. Even the 
poop deck was kept sanded smoothly giving the appearance that no one 
had ever hung their arse over the stern.

--------------------------

The Captain of the Bloody Cutlass had rested for a few minutes after 
his two slaves left him. 

The idea of having the girl join their late night revelry pleased him.

As Pirate Captains go, he was a good one. His crew appreciated him, 
and there was much to appreciate.

In battle he would join his men side by side swinging his cutlass, 
firing his musket, not only defeating the enemy, but protecting his 
men. Most Captains sought the protection of the helm while prompting 
their men to fight.

But the man's appreciation of the boys had not gone unnoticed. Fucking 
the cabin boy was not uncommon amongst the Pirate fleet. But when 
there were wenches to be had they were usually the preference. Not so 
with the Captain of the Bloody Cutlass.

Almost a year had passed since he had last taken a woman. It had been 
a conscious decision to improve his image.

He and most of his crew were in the Keg of Ale in Tortuga when Captain 
Mary Read had entered. Most people who did not know her thought that 
she was a man. She was rough and tough. Her rolling gate was that of a 
seaman. She bragged about the number of men she had run though. And 
despite being a woman, her ship was among the most feared in the 
Caribbean.

It was presumed that her masculine roll included wenching. No one ever 
had the guts to confront her with that part of her reputation. But she 
was a smart woman, and even though her reputation really reflected her 
appreciation of a slim, trim female, she was concerned about her image 
in much the same way as was the Captain of the Bloody Cutlass.

On that particular evening, Mary had entered the pub, and sat herself 
down at a corner table. In a loud voice she demanded a new bottle of 
rum and a glass.

The bartender had set the bottle and glass on the bar, and started to 
walk around to the front, when the Captain of the Bloody Cutlass 
picked up the bottle, and served the woman.
"How's ya doin' Frank?  Been a long time. Sit yer self down and join 
me."

The usually loud noise of the pub quieted down. His crew wanted to see 
what was going to happen next. And they were not disappointed.

The two Pirate Captains proceeded to get drunk while spinning tales of 
their adventures. Then they started feeling each other. He had his 
hand on her tits, and she was a-feeling his cock.

Right then and there he laid her back on the table, pulled out his 
cock and fucked her as his crew yelled and shouted, rooting them on.

But that had been more than a year ago.  Adding the girl slave to his 
cabin staff would be good for his reputation. Then he smiled at the 
thought that she could relieve the boy like she did tonight, and that 
would make the boy even better at sucking his cock.

He was beginning to recover from his sexual exercise, and began to 
realize the slaves had been gone longer than he had intended.

After pulling on his trousers, he walked bare footed out on deck 
looking for the wayward couple. 

They were not in plain sight. He figured the boy was probably pumping 
his pego into the wench hidden somewhere in the shadows. 

He must not let the crew realize he had lost control over his slaves; 
that would be disastrous. He would need to make an example of them. 
Maybe make the boy lash the girl to the foremast, and then give her 5 
strokes with the cat and nine tales.

He went back to his cabin angrily cursing the couple. When he found 
them they would be sorry.

He did not sleep well that night. He was sure the boy was fucking her 
all night. That did not please him.

Still the boy had not returned as the morning sun had brightened his 
cabin. This was turning into a serious matter. The ship needed searching, 
but he could not be seen looking for his slaves.

On deck he called the Quarter Master to the helm, and instructed him to 
do a head count of the slaves. An hour later the man returned reporting 
they were four short.

Everyone assembled amidships. 

"We have had four slaves disappear, and you can't tell me that ye 
didn't know about it." He was speaking to the slaves huddled on the 
deck. "And it's going to cost ye. For each man who disappeared one of 
ye will walk the plank." He turned to his men, "I want you to talk 
amongst yourselves and decide which four it's ta be. And it'll be done 
a fore sunset."

The Captain returned to stand alongside the helmsman.

The men were talking among themselves. Slaves were worth money. Throwing 
them over the side could be expensive.  However, there were some whose 
loss would be negligible.

The slaves were still huddled in a group when the Quarter Master 
approached the Captain. "They's decided, Capn'. And they are the most 
worthless. Probably wouldn't bring a farthing at the auction. There's 
that little red headed girl. Nobody's going to buy her. She is too 
tiny to fuck, and her mouth is too small for a cock. Harry knocked her 
about for biting his pego. Then thar's the woman that every body's 
had. Her arse hole is bigger than her cunt, and she stinks. Gerald is 
pissed at his slave, and want's to be rid a him. He's the one that is 
always gettin' beat. Then the last one is an old man. He ain't smart. 
Never had no trade. Too old to work the fields. Too dumb to be of any 
value."

"Very well. No point in delaying it. Let's do it now. Rig a plank off 
the port side. Let me know when yer ready. Don't let the slaves know 
whose going over the side till we're ready ta do it."

---------------------------

Some where between the fast moving Seagull and the Bloody Cutlass, the 
spirits of the two unclothed dead slaves remained in a limbo of discovery.

They were comfortably sitting on the cloud; but it was boring.

"So what's next?" Scott asked the girl.

"How do I know. I ain't never been here before. All's I know is that I 
am getting hungry."

"Well, we can't stay here forever, unless this cloud is what you're 
gonna eat. But if you do that where will we sit?"

Jerry looked at him with a superior smirk as though he were a foolish, 
unlearned boy. "I don't really know if it's hunger, but it's a craving. 
You know, like when you just gotta eat some fruit, or somethin'; 
but the craving ain't for no food I ever tasted."

Scott looked over at her, ignoring her comments. "Well, how do we get 
off a this thing?"

"Guess the same way you got on it."

"Fuck, I ain't gonna get ate by no mo sharks."

"That's not what I meant.  Just concentrate on moving, and ya'll 
move ... I think." 

"Well I don't want ta leave this cloud, unless I've got some place to 
go." Scott moved around, sinking into the soft depth of the billowy 
substance. "Why don't we both concentrate and try to move in that 
direction. Maybe we can take the cloud with us." 

They choose a point about 50 feet to the north, closed their eyes, and 
applied all of the intensity they could muster.

They felt themselves moving. Quite suddenly they splashed down into 
the warming Caribbean Sea. 

"Well that sure as hell didn't work. Let's get back on our cloud."

And in just a moment they were again sitting side by side on their 
celestial couch.

"That's got me tired." The boy declared, "We sure can't go very far 
that way."

"Guess we'll just have to wait for a passing ship and hitch a ride." 
Jerry started to rub her stomach, "Aren't you getting at all hungry?"

"Now's ya mention it. But it's not exactly hunger.  It's like you 
said, kind of a craving."

The girl, again taking a superior tone of voice said, "See, I told ya. 
What I crave is something tangy, and yet somethin' that smells clean 
and nice; like when I'm washin' dishes."

Scott began to chuckle to himself as he recognized what it was that 
they were craving.

"What are you laughing at ass hole?" Jerry asked.

"I know what you are craving for, and you ain't gonna be too happy 
'bout it."

"Well that experiment in moving took a lot out of me. I'm a lot hungrier 
now than before we tried that."

"True enough." Scott sat there quietly for a long time, and then told 
her what he had guessed. "A while back we were talking about Ectoplasm. 
That's what I think we are craving."

"So... If we don't know what it is, giving it a name doesn't help 
much. Don't be so fucking stupid."

"Oh I know what it is all right." Scott was laughing so hard that he 
began loosing control of himself.

"Stop that!" she commanded, "you are flashing on an off. Disappearing!"

The boy finally got control of himself. Then he realized that spell of 
laughter had left him even more tired than he had been before, and the 
craving had intensified. In a more serious note he continued, "Remember 
that last night on the Bloody Cutlass?"

Thoughtfully, the girl nodded her head.

Scott's smile was still there, but be began to realize the seriousness 
of his guess. "Think about it for a while.  Specially that stuff with 
me and the Captain when your face was just inches away."

The girl began to scowl as she remembered the disgusting incident, the 
boy sucking the captain's cock, and her stroking the boy. "I'd rather 
not." She paused for a moment, then the recollection of the odor of 
the boy's sperm spewing onto the captain put her into a state of 
shock. "Oh Gawd NO! You mean you think we are gonna have to live off a 
that stuff. I'd rather eat pussy."

He couldn't resist the poke at her, "I kinda figured you would. But 
for dinner you're gonna have to go on a sausage diet."

"Maybe you could suck cock, and I could suck yours; get it kind a 
second hand."

The idea of the girl's lips around his pego brought it instantly to 
attention. "Well, if you think it will satisfy your craving, go a head 
and try it."

Scott laid back, sinking slightly into the soft comfort of the cloud, 
his hard cock red, and ready.

Jerry moved toward him as he spread his legs apart. 

Her hands reached for the throbbing tool. Slowly she placed her lips 
over his member and began sucking on the head.

"That's nice, but you ain't gonna get no results doing it that way, 
you gotta put more tongue into it, and you need to go all the way 
down. Try and swallow it."

The girl's head began to bob up and down the shaft. The faster she went 
the more rigid it became. 

Scott began to moan as the pleasurable feelings started within the 
very core of his being. The touch was incredible. He began moving his 
hips up to meet her downward moving lips. "Come on swallow me pego."

The girl gulped the instrument, and surprisingly took it all.

"Oh! Oh! Oh Fuck that feels good.  I think I'm gonna come.  Keep at 
it."

Again and again the boy's shaft pistoned down her throat. His hips were 
now moving at a frantic rate, and the sensation was the most intense 
he had ever experienced. And it kept getting better, and better. "Oh, 
Oh, Oh.  I gotta come. I can't stand much more of this." But his hands 
told the truth about his pleasure as he held Jerry's head so that she 
could not move away from the plunging cock. 

Minutes went by and the astonishing feeling remained. Jerry jerked 
away from Scott, and sat up. She looked at the boy, who was still 
laying there in an almost catatonic state of sustained pleasure. 

"Well, I sure as hell didn't get anything out a that."

"Oh! Oh! Oh! It feels so good. I don't ever want it to stop." His hard 
cock was sticking straight up into the air, rigid, and very ready. 
Minutes went by and the boy was still laying there in a state of 
sensory pleasure.

Finally, Jerry again put her foot on his hip, pushed hard and shoved 
the boy off of the cloud and into the sea.

The sudden dunking forced the boy's mind from his genitals to his wet 
body. The organ instantly had collapsed. Only after several moments of 
hard concentration was he able to place himself back on the cloud. 
What little reserve energy he had was almost gone. His visibility 
flickered, then extinguished. 

The girl became frightened by this sudden change in events. "Don't do 
that. I can't see you."

The boy sighed, "Can't help it." He laid back on the cloud, and began 
to sleep the exhausted repose of someone who had had no rest in days.

Jerry sat almost alone. Only the sound of the boy's shallow breathing 
kept her company. Then her energy level also began to wane. Her 
visibility also flickered out as she joined Scott in rest, their spirits 
becoming slightly more revitalized by their nap.

-----------------------------------------------

The Seagull's wake was a frothy stark white contrast to the surrounding 
emerald sea.

The speed she was making would put them in the new world a day ahead 
of schedule.

Jack and Jose were in the galley preparing the evening meal. The 
movement of the vessel through the ocean was fairly stable as the 
inertia projected them through a calm sea. The craft was heeled over a 
few degrees to starboard, but it remained that way, so they needn't 
take any special precautions in handling their utensils.

Jose was peeling potatoes which Jack intended to boil along with some 
fresh cabbage they had bought the day before. There was also some 
salted meat that tasted a lot like pork. The cabbage, potatoes, and 
meat would make a good meal; probably the last they'd sit down to 
before entering New Orleans harbor. Foul weather would probably be 
ahead of them. That would mean fruit, hard-tack, and water. And eating 
while standing; probably on deck.

Jack would try to have hot coffee or tea for the crew. But keeping the 
kettle on the stove would be difficult if not impossible once they 
were into a rough sea.

When the crew was not sleeping they were expected to be on deck, 
keeping an alert eye out for Pirates; especially at night. 

Jack's favorite spot on the entire ship was the small platform atop the 
main mast. From there he could see for miles. But if the ship should 
change course and come about, the sudden change and jerking of the 
main boom could unseat anyone that far above the deck. The young 
crewman always tied himself to the mast with a line short enough to 
prevent his leaving the crow's nest. His Captain was pleased with the 
boy's choice of pleasurable places. On more than one occasion the 
halyard on the main had jumped off the pulleys and jammed. The top of 
the main was within reaching distance of his perch. If he hadn't been 
there the helmsman would have had to bring her into the wind, lofting 
the sails. The otherwise stable ship would then be at the mercy of the 
pounding seas, bouncing her around till everything was tangled, and 
difficult to restore.

--------------------------------

The slaves aboard the Bloody Cutlass knew the Captain would not change 
his mind.  He had shown his ruthlessness on more than one occasion, 
even having killed one of his own men when the man had tried to have 
his way with the Captain's cabin boy.

The Captain never thought in terms of right or wrong, ruthlessness or 
compassion. His concern was discipline and image. Disposing of the 
four slaves needed to be done for effect. He wanted the slaves to 
realize their own peril. The crew's choice couldn't have been more 
serving of his purpose than had he picked them his self. They would be 
so overwhelmed by the walking of the plank that no one would realize 
one of the four runaway slaves was the Captain's own cabin boy.

"Mr. Johnson, line the slaves up on each side of the plank." His command 
to the Quarter Master was loud and clear, projected with the 
clarity of an actor on a stage, and with as much dramaticism.

Three of the four to walk the plank were at the end of the line, far 
from the side of the ship. He smiled to himself as he imagined the 
reaction of those creatures when they heard whose fate was being 
sealed.

"To show that we are fair men, we have chosen two females and two 
males."

The slaves didn't respond. They stared blankly at their captors. For 
the most part they had resigned themselves to their fate as a group.

The Captain continued. "I want's ye to know what is in store for ye, 
if another of you'se disappear. Mr. Johnson, the youngest female 
first."

The Quarter Master, who had placed himself at the end of the line, 
reached for the long red hair of the ten year old waif that was to be 
the first. She was already sobbing, but the man's sudden jerking of her 
hair let loose a wail that could be heard from one end of the ship ta 
the other. The slaves gasped as they realized what this evil man was 
about to do.

The girl was lifted from the deck by the hair of her head and placed 
on the plank. The woman who had been the target of every man's cock 
was close to the plank. Not knowing that she was to be next, she 
screamed at the crew in an oath that would have put a sailor to shame. 
She grabbed the little girl, picked her up in her arms, and dove into 
the sea holding the child close to her bosom.

The Captain's reaction was instantaneous. "Well she was ta be the 
next." He roared in laughter. His crew joined in. The woman's actions 
had been a defiant gesture of opposition to the purpose of this execution. 
He could not let them get one up on him. The laughter was not 
genuine, but no one detected its lack of authenticity.

When the laughter died down he continued, "Let's get on with it Mr. 
Johnson; the youngest male first."

Gerald's slave must have sensed that he was on the list. He had no 
reaction to his being sought out. He walked to the edge of the plank. 
Unlike the previous two, his body showed bruises almost everywhere; 
buttocks, inner thighs, back, shoulders, and even face. He had suffered 
much, and eagerly awaited his fate which could only be better 
than what he had endured aboard the Bloody Cutlass.

With no prompting he walked to the end of the plank and did a perfect 
swan dive into the waiting sea.

There was no reaction from the naked slaves as they saw who was the 
last selection. In fact if they had been poled as to whom they themselves 
would have selected, this man would certainly have been the 
most likely. He was an old man. There was neither wisdom, nor 
strength, skill, nor endurance in his favor. No one would have admitted 
that one other characteristic of the man had placed him at the top 
of their personal list. He was constantly farting.  Not just a silent 
smeller, but unusually loud, wet, and stinking.

Mr. Johnson had presumed that the old man would have to be forced to 
walk the plank. He was surprised to see the old man proudly walk 
between the line of slaves on either side of him. Gracefully, although 
nakedly, he stepped upon the plank and walked to its end.  Only then 
did the old man turn to face his executioners. He bent his right arm 
at the elbow, placed his left hand on that elbow, closed his right 
fist, and gestured upward in an Italian "Fuck you" salute, while 
simultaneously letting loose the loudest, wettest, smelliest fart that 
any one had ever witnessed. He then turned and dove into the sea.

Without another word, the Captain, whose face had turned a scarlet red 
in response to the final display of contempt, turned and walked to the 
helm. "Mr. Johnson, I want every slave to be on his hands and knees 
scrubbing every inch of this ship from stem to stern. Then I want it 
holystoned. Any slave who is slack in his work will receive five 
lashes a the cat."

------------------------------------

Jack had been at the helm for several hours. 

The wind was brisk off of the port quarter. The Seagull was cutting a 
speedy path westward.

The ship's course had been steady ever since he came on watch. The sea 
was calm, so that she moved through the water as straight as an arrow. 
The wheel required only occasional pressure to port to keep her on 
course.

Jack's mind had been on a fantasized sexual day dream which had been 
prompted by a rare purchase he had made in their last port.

While he and Jose had been scouring the marketplace for supplies, 
something had caught his shipmate's eye. Jose needed little incentive 
to bargain and thus was occupied. A small boy had approached Jack. 
"You want to fucky my sister? Only ten pesos, and she is almost a 
virgin. You like. No?"

Jack had ignored the tiny hawker, but the child had been persistent. 

Even though the lad was small in both size and years, he was street 
wise and sensed this young seaman was not being tempted by his sales 
pitch. "I have a brother that you might like."

The look that Jack gave the lad made him realize he was about to loose 
his first prospective customer of the day.

But "No" was not in the boy's vocabulary. He just needed to find the 
right merchandise. Unless his quarry had recently had a girl, sex 
should be the chosen commodity. "I have a rare piece of art worth many 
doubloons."

Before Jack could turn away the persistent boy pulled out a roll of 
cloth, unfurled it, displaying an interesting drawing. It was unique. 
The youthful merchant had recently acquired it as part of his fee for 
guiding two drunken sailors to a brothel. 

The piece of art depicted a naked man whose cock head was being licked 
by an equally naked girl. The artist had done justice to his fantasy. 
The colors were a bit brighter than they should have been, but the 
painter had caught an expression of lustful anticipation in the male 
models eye. It was the lips of the girl, which were servicing her 
partner that brought the sketch to life. Jack's pego immediately 
tented his white seaman's trousers.

The boy forced himself not to grin when he noticed his customer's 
response. Quickly the canvas was rolled, and secured with a piece of 
string. "Ten doubloons is all I ask for this exquisite rarity." 

Jack noticed that the boy was staring at the bulge in his pants, and 
began wondering about the boy's sister.

"What's ya got there?" Jose joined them.

"The kid want's ten doubloons for this drawing. Have you any money?"

Jose ignored Jack's question, "Ten doubloons for a piece of canvas. I 
think not."

The child looked crushed as he realized his customer was not going to 
be the easy mark he had anticipated. "Seven and half?"

"Two is all we'll pay. Not a sliver of silver more."

"But it cost me six." The vendor lied.

"Two. And that's the end of it." Jose grabbed Jack's elbow and led him 
away. 

The child followed, continuing his bargaining, "My mother will beat me 
if I come home with so little. Please handsome sirs."

Jose and Jack continued to walk toward the ship.

"Damn you. All right I'll let you have this rare piece for three."

Jose stopped, and turned to the boy. He had won, and that pleased him. 
"Here is the Three, let's see what we bought."

The vendor removed the string, letting the cloth unroll. Jose was 
pleased by what he saw. "And here's a half doubloon more. Yer a good 
salesman." Jose reached over and tousled the boy's head.

As Jack relived that scene his cock lurched. Surreptitiously
he moved his hardening organ upward so that the head was being held in 
place by his belt. Then consciously he forced himself to concentrate 
on the compass and the ship's course.

Within the hour the helmsman was relieved by Jose. "I've been looking 
at that drawing we bought. It's damn nice. I think I cheated the boy."

"The girl looks Chinese, but not the man. What do you think?"

"No telling. But it's nice."

Jack left the wheel with the intentions of resting for a few minutes 
in his hammock before going back on deck.

He climbed into his bed, stretching out, eyes closed. The scene in the 
picture came into his mind. His imagination animated it. His closed 
eyes looked out into the room where the girl was bobbing her head up 
and down on the man's cock. Jack's own cock stirred, but was still held 
captive by his belt. He was inclined to massage it, but it was daylight 
and anyone might come into the focsle cabin at any moment.

His lustful thoughts would not leave him. With intentful purpose he 
set his feet upon the deck, took hold of the painting, and headed for 
his favorite private place, the crows nest.

He leaned back against the top of the main mast, facing the Seagull's 
bow. Without even unfurling the picture he closed his eyes, and 
loosened the top of his trousers. His hard pego practically leaped 
into the open air. 

Then Jack unrolled the picture. His eyes created an entry into a land 
of fantasy that would be most pleasant.

-----------------------------------

Jerry had been resting. And the resting had done her good. She still 
felt weak, and her craving was intense. She wasn't sure why she had 
suddenly opened her eyes. She sensed that something had changed. It 
wasn't that she heard, or smelled anything. It was just a sense that 
something was about to change.  

In confusion she looked around her. Scott was not visible, but she 
could hear him breathing.

She looked to the east. A narrow, fast ship was headed directly toward 
them. "Scott, wake up. Scotty, do ya hear me?"

Sleepily her partner replied. "I am so tired. What do you want?"

"I think our prayers have been answered. Look down there."

She had no visible finger which to follow. "Look down at the water to 
the east."

"My Gawd it's a ship, and it looks like her mast is going to cut right 
through us."

Jerry was now awake and alert. Get ready, when she gets here we'll 
board her crows nest.

As the Seagull approached the cloud, Jerry saw Jack, and what he was 
doing. He had his hand around the base of his exposed cock, eyes 
closed, and dreaming about the girl in the painting.

Jerry and Scott stepped onto the passing platform. Quietly she 
whispered. "Look, Dinner is about to be served."

She knelt between Jack's legs, while Scott stood to the side looking 
on.

As Jack's hand moved up to the head of his cock, Jerry placed her lips 
just a fraction of an inch above. If he ejaculated she could capture 
most of it.

As his hand began to retrace its course back to the base, her lips 
followed, enveloping the organ.

Jack couldn't believe the reality that this fantasy was taking. He 
could actually feel the oriental girl's lips around his instrument. And 
as he increased the pace, the imaginary sensations were becoming 
incredible. Soon, his hand was moving much faster, and Jerry's lips 
were following.

Quite suddenly Jack felt he was on that last climbing of the slope. 
His muscles went rigid, and he spasmed. Spurt after spurt of cum 
burst from his pulsing cock. 

He thought he heard a female voice say, "Damn that was good."

Jack opened his eyes, expecting to see his sperm all over his trousers 
and shirt. He was confused by the fact that there was none. His logical 
mind took over suggesting that the wind had carried his seed into 
the sea.

Jerry was feeling much better. She felt good. She felt great. She felt 
like a new person. But, again, her intuitiveness came to the fore. 
Again there was something about to happen. Her senses became sharp and 
alert. She thought she could hear a small voice being carried by the 
wind. She stood facing the bow of the ship. Almost invisible to her 
eye she could see what appeared to be a floating log, and that there 
was something live clinging to it. She shouted, "Look off of our 
Starboard Bow."

Jack heard the feminine voice, loud and clear. He jumped to his feet, 
and looked off of the Starboard Bow.  Then he saw what Jerry had seen.

He leaned over the rail of the Crows nest. "Cap'n! Cap'n, off a the 
Starboard Bow."

The Captain looked up at the shouting figure. What he saw astounded 
him. There was young Jack, his hard Pego pushed through the netting of 
the Crows nest shouting something, and pointing wildly into the distance.

At first glance the Captain had thought the lad was trying to piss, 
but the pego was far too rigid for that. And the boy's antics were 
even more confusing. However, his eyes followed the pointing arm. 
"Quarter Master, bring me me long glass."

The magnifying instrument brought an image to his mind that was beyond 
reason. There, clinging to the branch of a tree was a tiny naked form. 
It could a been a skinned cat except for its long red hair. "Jack, me 
boy, any ships on the horizon?" 

The crows nest confirmed that there was none. "Helmsman, bring her 
into the wind. Quarter Master! Make the dingy ready."

Without further orders the Quarter Master and the leading seaman lowered 
the small boat, boarded it, and rowed in the direction of the forsaken child.

For what ever substituted for adrenaline in a ghostly body, was now 
surging through Scotty. Even though he was weak from having not as yet 
fed, he had jumped to the side of the crows nest, and was viewing the 
target of everyone's attention. "My God!  That's the little girl from 
the Bloody Cutlass. She must a fallen overboard."

"I'll be right back." Jerry's whisper was overheard by Jack. He looked 
around, and chalked his hearing to another imaginary incident. At that 
point he resolved not to give his pego as much attention. Things had 
been a little weird since he had purchased the drawing.

There was nothing to see, but Scott knew Jerry was now on board the 
dingy that was rapidly approaching the wailing little girl.

As the dingy approached the child the Quarter Master gave his oar to 
the leading seaman. "Try and keep her steady."

Death was something the waif knew nothing about. She had no experiences 
upon which to base her feelings. Certainly she was frightened. The 
woman who had gone over board with her had drifted away many hours 
earlier. When she felt the warm human hands grasp her under the arms, 
and lift her from the water, her reaction was as though she had been 
lifted from hell directly into heaven. Her tiny arms wrapped 
themselves around the neck of her savior. She clung tightly, sobbing, 
"Please don't throw me back. I'll do anything you tell me."

She sobbed out her tale of being thrown from a ship. Neither the 
Quarter Master nor the leading seaman gave the incoherent babblings 
any credence. After all the child must be hysterical. Only God knew 
how long she had been clinging to that log.

However, there was a ghostly presence on that small boat that did give 
the child's sobful tale attention. Jerry was shocked by her conclusions. 
If there was any truth in the girl's story something needed to be done. 

There was nothing she could do to assist, so she returned to the 
crows nest as Jack was climbing down the mast.

Scotty was far too tired to pay any attention to Jerry's story. The 
emergency reserve of energy had been spent. He became inanimate, 
laying back on the hard platform he hoped to simply rest till he felt 
better.
 
On the Captain's orders Jack had gone below to the galley to prepare a 
kettle of hot tea. His instructions were to add a small measure of rum 
to the cup, just before bringing it on deck. 

The little girl had quieted down, once her feet were on the ships 
deck. She had not willingly relinquished her hold on the Quarter Masters 
neck, and even now had her arms tightly around his legs, her little face 
buried in the man's crotch.

His hands reached down to the tiny head, trying to stroke her, but her 
tangled hair snagged his fingers. 

Jack kneeled along side of her. The smell of the tea, the strange 
sharpness of the spirits, and the warmth enticed the girl to let go of 
the Quarter Master. Her tiny lips gratefully accepted the offered cup. 
The strange taste was not pleasant but it coursed through her body 
bringing much needed warmth.  Yet she continued to shiver. 

Jack placed his arms around her small waist. Her little bottom was 
very cold. He cupped one tiny globe till it felt a bit warmer, then 
cupped the other.

Slowly she looked up into the faces of the tall strangers that surrounded 
her. She turned toward the Quarter Master, and reached for the 
man's penis. She was expecting to pay for her rescue in the coin that 
had been the price of her existence on the other ship. Nothing could 
be as bad as the time she had clung to that log. No matter what she 
would not bite.

The crew of the Seagull were men of the world. They had seen children 
providing sexual services in bawdy houses in almost every port. But, 
they were aghast as they realized the little girl was expecting to pay 
for her rescue.

The Quarter Master gently removed her small hands from his limber 
cock, lifting her to his chest, comforting her as though she were his 
own child. His arms held her tightly. Hers were firmly encircling his 
neck.

The man carried the child to the galley-cabin  hoping to find some 
clothing small enough for her to wear; something that would protect 
her from the approaching night air.

The day had been an unusual one for every one on board the Seagull. As 
the sun dropped below the horizon, and before the other heavenly 
bodies provided light to the oncoming night sky two of the four seaman 
were already in their hammocks.

Both Jose and Jack lay in their berths. The day had been full of 
adventure. Jack's mind was reexamining his experience in the crows 
nest. His cock had hardened as he was reexperiencing that fantastic 
jerk off. Unintentionally his left hand was adding physical stimulation 
to what was becoming a repeat of his earlier trek. Quietly, he glanced 
toward his cabin mate, to assure himself that his exercise was not 
being observed. The cabin was very dark. Neither men could see each 
other.

In the other hammock Jose's imagination had turned to the painting 
they had purchased. Like Jack, his thoughts began to animate the 
scene, giving life to the still. His hands went to his stiff member, 
and began the time honored practice which such thoughts inevitably led 
to.

Realizing Scott's needful condition, Jerry had created such a 
commotion that even the dead could not sleep through it. "We need to 
get you below. You need to eat." She stopped her harangue for just a 
moment as she realized that "Eat," was not an appropriate term.

While Scott agreed with her, just laying there on the deck was restful; 
he did not want to move.

Eventually the girl had her way, and the two spirits descended to the 
main deck, and then into the focsle cabin.

They discovered a ghostly sense they did not know they possessed. Even 
though the two cabin mates were immersed in the darkness of an unlit 
night sky, the two spirits could see the room and it's occupants with 
as much clarity as if it had been on deck at mid-day.

Jerry, motioned Scotty to explore Jose's efforts. She would enjoy 
seconds from her earlier source.

Jose's legs were bent at the knees creating a tent in which his right 
hand was stroking his long, thin tool. Jose's cock was hooded, the 
foreskin sliding easily up and down the stiff rod. As Jerry had done 
with Jack, Scotty placed his lips just above the pulsing member. Then 
as the hand moved to encircle the head, his lips joined in, following 
the downward stroke.

The boy's imagination took the extra sensation into stride as the 
animated image from the painting took on even more life. For just a 
moment he thought Jack had joined him, and the thought of Jack's lips 
being the ones around his pego were surprisingly welcome. 

Meanwhile, in the other hammock almost the same thoughts were being 
generated in Jack's mind. The feeling on his cock was too real. Could 
it be that Jose wanted his cock.

The two thoughts some how linked, and they both climaxed at the same 
instant. Shot after shot of sperm was instantly caught in the mouths 
of the two ghosts.

The energy it brought to Scott was miraculous, and without thinking 
he uttered, "Thanks man, I needed that."

Both men were startled by the voice. They wondered if they imagined 
it. They also wondered if it was their cabin mate.

Guiltily, they remained silent, not being willing to admit to themselves, 
nor to acknowledge to the other that such thoughts, or behavior 
had occurred. Their conscience elected to ignore the real, and 
consign the experience to a very imaginary, yet very real day dream. 
Almost instantly the two shipmates fell asleep.

Later that night Jose and Jack had the watch. Jose was at the helm 
while Jack was lookout. On occasion the two looked at the other for 
any sign that the earlier experience had been real and not a day 
dream. Each wondered about the other. Secretly they each hoped the 
experience had been real, and therefore repeatable. Eventually, they 
caught each others eye, and became convinced that the other had sucked 
his cock.

The other two seaman who had been relieved had gone below. They lit a 
lamp so that they could undress before crawling into their hammocks. 
The younger boy had discovered Jack's painting, and the two looked at 
it for quite a long time. Even though the older was the lead seaman, 
the two shared an almost brotherly appreciation for one another. Jose 
and Jack were close buddies, and so were these two. They joked about 
the quality of the picture, and the thoughts that the scene brought to 
mind. The younger one commented, "I didn't get laid while we were in 
Port Royal. I'm so horny I could fuck a snake."

Without further comment, they replaced the picture, extinguished the 
lamp, and crawled into their own hammock.

Again, the picture became animated in the imagination of the two cabin 
mates. And the two ghosts took full advantage of the opportunity. The 
entire episode was an exact duplicate of the earlier one. Both men 
were incredibly surprised by the feeling of real lips around their 
cocks. The earlier comment "I'm so horny I could fuck a snake" added 
more fact to the wonderment about it being their shipmate who was 
doing the honors. Then quite intentionally, Scotty repeated the final 
tag to the experience. In a deeper than usual voice he said, "Man, I 
needed that."

The two shipmates fell asleep wondering about the other.