Date: Tue, 31 May 2005 00:40:41 -0400
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 5

FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 5

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "For God & Country" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble," "Castle Margarethen," "The Priest and
the Pauper," and "High Plains Doctor" which are archived in Nifty's
"Historical" section.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com.

"For God and Country" is much indebted to a long out-of-print work titled
"Ask No Quarter" by George Marsh (Sun Dial Press, 1946).  In many ways, it
is an "alternative" retelling of parts of that grand story.  To be sure,
most of the content is unique to this yarn.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 5

(Revisiting Chapter 4)

"Yes, Rene, I had to know - and now I do.  The American sloop of war is
considerably more dangerous than the British frigates.  Further, as planned
from the beginning, I have been able to look her Captain and her Mate in
the eye.  They are anything but cowards.  When the time is ripe, we must
give the British enemy some assistance in ridding the Caribbean of this
menace."

(Continuing Our Story - Twisting the Lion's Tail)

Sailing in concert with the Continental Navy frigate Philadelphia of 48
guns (temporarily on duty in the Greater Antilles), the Eagle intercepted a
convoy some 50 miles out to sea as it was proceeding into Kingston,
Jamaica.  While its main cargo was military supplies, there were other
goods, as well as a large detachment of British marines that has come all
the way from England.

The convoy consisted of HMS Glorious, a frigate of 36 guns, four good-sized
merchant ships, several smaller vessels, and a troop transport.  The wind
completely in their favor, the Philadelphia promptly engaged the Glorious
while the Eagle moved to attack the convoy.  Two of the merchant ships and
three of the smaller vessels had already been reduced to flaming wrecks
when the troop transport began to flounder.  Seeing that the Philadelphia
was well on her way to victory, Captain Arnold signaled the British that
they were in heavily shark-infested waters.  (In fact, the waters were
already roiling.)  He would halt his attack and allow the British to
recover their men if they made no move to escape or fire upon him.  When
the British commander signaled his acceptance, the Eagle launched its own
longboats in concert with those of the enemy while the remaining smaller
vessels recovered men in the water.  Hundreds of human beings were saved
from a grisly death, the British tars cheering the Eagle's longboats as
they conveyed their cargos to the merchantmen.  As the last longboat pulled
away from the vessel on which the British officer stood, he saluted them.

When the troopship finally sank beneath the waves and all who could be
saved were saved, Arnold ordered the men on the ships to take to their
boats or transfer to the crowded smaller vessels.  Boarding parties from
the Eagle secured the two ships.  With the Rhode Island sloop of war drawn
alongside, they quickly transferred an extensive supply of shot and powder,
plus a large chest of gold coins and other goods.  As the British frigate
burned in the background, the Eagle sent the two ships to the bottom, but
allowed the boats to make their way towards Kingston.

As one might guess, he entire British colonial establishment was absolutely
infuriated when the enormity of the disaster became apparent.  "God's
Blood!  If Jamaica - one of Britain's richest possessions and far to the
west in the Greater Antilles - wasn't safe from these rogues, what was?
And what of the convoy system in which both the naval authorities and
commercial interests had placed their trust? The Captain of HMS Glorious
and the naval officer on board the commercial ships who had agreed to the
truce were promptly ordered to London to answer charges.  Whatever the
outcome, their navalcareers were over.  Further, the two new frigates that
had been searching for "cannibals" in the Lesser Antilles were recalled to
the duty for which the Admiralty had originally sent them to the Caribbean.

(Isla de las Palmas)

The Philadelphia did not come out of the action unscathed, for the British
frigate had been well fought before succumbing to a markedly stronger (and
better fought) ship that had the weather gage from the beginning.  Though
completely sailable, she might have fallen into serious trouble had a heavy
storm arisen.  Fortunately, Captain Martins knew the western Caribbean far
better than Captain Arnold and was able to suggest a secure anchorage, the
Isla de las Palmas or Island of the Palms, where repairs might be effected.
Sailing within a mile of each other, the two ships were making good headway
on the second day.

     Andy Browne

Crouched over his cannon during the firing drill, Andy Browne suddenly
whirled and buried his fist in the face of Thaddeus Longley, an older
member of his battery.  A geyser of blood from Longley's crushed nose
erupted onto the well built 17 year old.  "Bosun's mate, clap that man in
irons and take him to the brig!" the bosun barked.  A dejected young
skilt-clad sailor, naked to the waist, stood with bowed head as a bosun's
mate removed his knife, placed handcuffs on his outstretched arms, and led
him below.  "The boy is young, bosun; and we saw what happened.  Perhaps in
the cell we might dispense with the leg irons and chains...this time," Hugh
whispered to the bosun.  "Yes, sir," the bosun replied quietly.  "There are
too many Longleys in this man's navy.  He deserved what he got."  "True,"
the mate answered, "but you did the right thing.  The man who throws the
first punch goes to the brig.  No ship can permit the men to attack each
other."  The bosun nodded, saluted, and returned to his duties.

Later that afternoon, Hugh made his way below decks to the brig.  The damp
heat was stifling.  As the damp planks of the sloop, washed down that
morning as usual, absorbed the rays of the blazing sun above, the
temperature had climbed to well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.  In fact, it
was probably closer to 110.  One could literally see the moisture hanging
heavily in the air.  The dejected youngster sat against one wall, his head
bowed, the sweat pouring down his naked chest, the nauseating smell of
Longley's blood rising from his body and clothing.  Hugh noticed that while
he still wore handcuffs, he had not been fitted with leg irons nor had his
body been chained.  Hunkering down beside the bars, the mate asked, "You
ok, Andy?"  "Yes, sir," Andy answered in a voice just short of a sob.  "You
understand why the bosun was forced to act as he did?"  "Yes, sir," came
the quick reply.  "I saw much of what happened, Andy," Hugh continued.
"He's been after you for some time?"  Raising his head in response to the
positive tone in the mate's voice, the boy responded, "Since Newport, sir.
Most of it has been talk and some 'accidental' bumps and touches, but I
lost my head when he put his hand up my skilt and grabbed my..."  "I
understand, Andy," Hugh interjected quickly, "but you cannot attack another
man on this ship or any other ship."  His chin slumping back onto his
chest, the youth answered dejectedly, "Yes, sir."

"Do you know Jeremy Stuart?" Hugh asked.  "Absolutely, sir," Andy answered.
"Next to you, the guys think he's..."  (His reply ground to an embarrassed
halt.)  "I don't think Longley will be bothering you again for quite a
while, Andy," the Mate continued as if he hadn't heard the last comment.
Others saw what happened and they've talked.  Right now his stock among the
men is somewhat lower than a skunk's.  If it should happen again, however,
I want you to go and speak with Jeremy.  That's easier than speaking with
me, right?"  "Right, sir," the boy agreed reluctantly.  In sudden fear, he
mumbled, "Do they think I'm...?"  "NO!" Hugh exclaimed.  "We've got some
old salts on this ship, young'un, and they know a lot about the Longleys of
this world.  They think you're a fine young sailor, and this gives them a
chance to take care of a predator.  Relax, you're ok."  "Thanks, sir, much
obliged," the lad mumbled in a relieved voice.

"I brought some shorts down from the slop chest, sailor.  Do you want to
exchange them for that bloody skilt?"  "YEAH!" Andy answered
enthusiastically...before realizing how he had addressed an officer and
blushing deeply.  Hugh went up to the bosun's mate who sat dozing at a
nearby table and borrowed his key.  Returning to the cell, he unlocked the
gate and entered.  "Ok, Andy, stand up."  The youngster tried, but between
the cuffs and having grown stiff, he couldn't manage it.  Hugh simply threw
his arms around the hunky youth and hauled him to his feet.  Quickly, he
loosened the stinking skilt and drew it down and off the boy's naked feet.
Rising and stepping back, he beheld a beautifully built young sailor.
Taking a wet sponge that he had brought with him from the passageway, he
removed the worst of the blood from his chest and arms.  As vigorously as
he had rejected Longley's advances, Andy so wished it were Hugh's hands he
was feeling rather than the rough sponge.  Barely pausing, the Mate dropped
and helped the boy get his feet into the canvas shorts and then drew them
up over his sturdy calves, thighs, and butt.

"Sir, there's a problem," Andy breathed in complete embarrassment.  "I'm
built kinda big and my tackle's jammed.  That's one reason I like skilts,"
he babbled on, his tongue completely out of control.  Making a Herculean
effort to avoid breaking into a grin, Hugh grabbed the waistband of the
shorts and jiggled them sharply up and down a few times.  "That do it,
young'un?" he asked.  "No, sir," the lad whispered, his face red and tears
appearing in the corners of his eyes.  "In for a penny, in for a pound,"
the mate grunted to himself.  Loosening the waistband, he plunged his hand
down inside the shorts, freeing the boy's equipment and transferring a
(very) heavy handful to an open spot.  "That do it?"  A very unsteady,
crimson-faced young sailor could do no more than nod affirmatively and,
breathing heavily, lean against the man whom he idolized.  (He was not the
only one who was breathing heavily, for Hugh himself was visibly swollen.)
For a moment, the Eagle's mate stood beside the boy, his big hand around
the back of his neck.  "These are orders, Andy.  However difficult, you
will get up and walk around a couple of times every hour...at a minimum.
You will respond to everyone politely.  You will eat all of the bread and
water that you receive at supper and again at breakfast.  And when they let
you out of here before the noon meal tomorrow, you will come out in good
spirits.  No hangdog looks, hear?"  As the mate dropped his hand and made
ready to leave the cell, the lad drew himself to full attention and did his
best to salute with his shackled hands.  The expression on his face was
anything but hangdog - though it did somewhat resemble the look of a puppy
that had been fed tidbits from the fingers of its beloved master.  "Yes,
SIR!" he barked.  "Thankee, SIR!"  Hugh grinned and tousled the youngster's
thick brown hair before turning back towards the gate.

Twenty-four hours (to the minute) from the time the bosun had sent Andy to
the brig, he was released.  Within a day or two, he was back to his old
merry self.  There was no further trouble from Thaddeus Longley.  Having
been at sea since he was 14 (nigh on 30 years), he knew the routine. Under
such circumstances, one kept his head down and his mouth shut, did his
work, went last in everything, and complained about nothing - even if his
hammock did collapse twice on one night.  No ropes had been cut; they had
simply...unraveled.  He also knew that if he ever touched one of the
younger ones again, he'd never live through his next night watch.  (He
accidentally bumped into Harry one day and spent the better part of ten
minutes in terrified apologies.  The ship's boy finally muttered that he
"accepted his explanation," turned contemptuously on his heel, and walked
away.  Had there been a ship's cat, it would undoubtedly have pissed on
him.)  If he were lucky, he'd be allowed to leave the ship at Martinique.
Unlike peacetime service, however, there was a major difficulty. Namely,
there were next to no American ships on which he could sign on.  It was not
a pleasant prospect.

On the morning of the third day, the Eagle was suddenly at the Isla de las
Palmas.  There was no tall volcano to announce the island's presence in the
sea, nor did it even appear on many maps.  Rather, following the directions
given by Captain Martins, Jeremy suddenly found himself gliding into a
completely hidden cove that one could not tell was there until nearly on
top of it.  The Philadelphia appeared several hours later (to the joy of
the seamen who held the winning numbers), having experienced severe
difficulty with its pumps during the evening and night of the day
preceding.  Indeed, Captain Martins admitted great relief at having made it
at all.

     Cocktails at 6 Bells

Once routines had been established and repairs were underway - the men of
the two ships working side-by-side as often as not - the Captain of the
Philadelphia extended a formal invitation for "cocktails at six bells" to
the Captain and Mate of the Eagle.  Never had the contrast between a naval
frigate and a privateer been more obvious!

Although he had initially done so only at Jeremiah's fervent request, Hugh
actually felt more comfortable when he was piped aboard the Philadelphia
dressed to the nines.  Everyone else was also dressed most formally, even
the servants (middle-aged to elderly men in the main) and the small
ensemble that played at one end of the large room.  During the course of
the party, every officer - even the midshipmen - made an effort to greet
them.  Though they clearly had been trained not to "talk shop," those
younger officers involved in the repair work were most complimentary
regarding the contributions of the Eagle's crew - and most had only
positive things to say about the Eagle's actions in destroying the convoy's
merchantmen and the troopship.  (Several obviously had strong reservations
about Jeremiah's lifesaving efforts, but they were most circumspect in
their comments.)  Alcohol flowed freely.  To Hugh's untutored eyes, both
the variety and the amount were mind-boggling.  He was almost relieved when
Captain Martins slowed the flood tide by offering the first in a series of
toasts.  "To the Officers of the Eagle, our Proud Companions in this
Venture," he proclaimed.  "To the Officers of the Eagle!" rang out in the
Philadelphia wardroom.  Hugh was about tenth in line, but when his turn
came, he gazed out over the assemblage of mature red-faces, not a few with
wigs askew, and in a firm young voice said, "To the Common Seamen of Two
Proud Ships, God Bless and Protect 'Em!"  Despite a few coughs, the
discipline of the Philadelphia held and "To the Common Seamen" was firmly
(if unenthusiastically) intoned.

Had Hugh not respected the way that the frigate had taken the Glorious
apart - spar by spar - he would have had little but contempt for its
officers.  Though Captain Martins appeared to be a very competent officer -
an officer who had served in the Royal Navy for years before his native
South Carolina joined in the Declaration of Independence - the other
officers were little more than conceited, rich, politically-appointed
stuffed shirts..."posturing popinjays," Hugh muttered later to Jeremy.
What's more, one was a violent homophobe who could talk of nothing else.
(Jeremiah's second did have a few "positive" words to say about several of
the midshipmen, but more of that anon!)  Thoroughly agreeing with his Mate,
the Captain smiled darkly and, after whispering to Hugh, invited the
officers of the Philadelphia to an evening party on board the Eagle two
nights hence.

     The Eagle's Soiree

There was a certain natural rivalry between the men of the two ships, but
they were so busy in making repairs and otherwise readying the ships for
sea that they had little time for mischief.  The bosun's mates did report
some "muttering in the fo'c'sle."  While it wasn't possible for Jeremy to
say more, he did report that the "airs" put on by the Philadelphia's
officers were not going down well with the more relaxed (but hard-working)
seamen of the Eagle.  Looking at each other with mischief in THEIR eyes,
Jeremiah and Hugh decided to involve the crew.

In separate meetings with the watches, Hugh, in particular, played up the
age and pomposity of the Philadelphia's officers, telling a few stories
about their "cocktail party."  With malice and forethought, he also made
full use of his toast that had been met by little more than a "minimal" (if
proper) response.  Posing the question, he asked, "How can we show them OUR
kind of 'party'?"  The suggestions came fast and furious!

At the appointed hour, the Philadelphia's officers appeared in their most
formal finery.  (Only the Eagle's Captain and Mate were so dressed.)  After
their guests had been greeted with full honors at the gangway, Hugh
presented each officer with a hand drawn "treasure map" that listed 25
different rum drinks, most of which would have curled the feathers on a
green parrot!  (Several of the men on the big sloop were not only literate,
but possessed considerable raw artistic ability.)  They then passed onto
the Eagle's spar deck that was so clean that the cook could have dispensed
with plates!  In the early evening, the sky just beginning to show a darker
blue interspersed with wild tropical colors, 24 young sailors - handsome,
built, naked to the waist and dressed in naught but white slops - stood at
attention along the sides of the desk, holding flaming native torches.
Twelve other young men, similarly dressed, passed among them, taking orders
for drinks and quickly returning with the desired potions.  (The men had
been selected by a jury comprised of the four bosun's mates and four of the
older seamen.  The winners - and the judges - received an extra rum ration
each day for one week!  Seventy- two of the younger men had competed for
the 36 spots.)  The remaining sailors - several prepared to serve as
substitutes were there need - dressed in white slops and shirts were
engaged in their normal ship's duties or manned the rigging.

After a drinking period - and these were no lightweight drinks! - the
Eagle's guests were called to a great buffet table on which sat a veritable
feast, the centerpiece of which was a great barbequed pig.  The main dishes
were accompanied by every fancy touch that the cooks could muster.  (Many
of the gourmet treats - pickled this and creamed that - came from the
Philadelphia itself, for the two head cooks had been shipmates in earlier
days.)  Needless to say, the rum kept coming.  As plates were filled and
refilled, the ship's two fiddlers (dressed in white slops and shirts)
walked from group to group, playing sea chanteys that were sung by the men
in the rigging.  "Enchanting," the frigate's surgeon murmured to his
counterpart on the Eagle.  At the close of the meal, a cask of captured
port was broached and innumerable toasts offered.  It might also be noted
that by this time, "pain" was not a word in anyone's vocabulary.

Captain Arnold announced that there would be a short intermission, but that
no one should go far, for an "interesting" program would follow.  (Rum and
food were still available at the table manned by two hunky sailors.)  One
of the Philadelphia's younger lieutenants went to Captain Martins and asked
if the midshipmen and junior officers might accept invitations to go below
for tours of the noted sloop - as long as they returned by the beginning of
the program.  With the acquiescence of Captain Arnold, the mellow commander
gave his leave - despite the scowls of several of his officers.

Several stories came to Jeremiah and Hugh later that suggested how
physically frustrated many young men on the Philadelphia were.  Further,
even the youngest among them had downed generous portions of Demon Rum.  In
the exceedingly warm and humid semi- darkness...in quiet corners and
deserted holds...several of the Eagle's youngsters had evidently been
willing to "give a little help" to their fellow seamen.  One of the
funniest stories concerned four of the youngest midshipmen from the
Philadelphia who were being proudly shown through the Eagle by several of
the ship's boys.  All were between 12 and 14 years of age.  They were
somewhat stiff and formal at first, due in part to their exalted station in
life, their fine uniforms - and their discomfort in associating with "mere
ship's boys".  Nevertheless, they rapidly caught the excitement and pride
of the clean and neatly dressed urchins who had been ordered by the bosun
(the bosun himself!) to fulfill an "important duty."  It wasn't long before
they were simply a group of early adolescents who had escaped the constant
scrutiny of their elders.  Shown into a hold piled high with coils of rope
and folded canvas, the effervescent Harry (who as the youngest had been
"permitted" by the older lads to carry the lantern) whispered, with just a
touch of embarrassment, that this was the place they came "to play."
Mistaking his full meaning, Seth, the obvious leader of the midshipman,
wailed. "Oh, man, what I wouldn't give just to fool around a little!"
"It's dirty in here," Harry replied sadly.  "If we messed up these new
slops and shirts, the bosun would have our asses!  Wouldn't your Lieutenant
raise hell with you?"  "Well," Seth replied, warming to the challenge, "we
could always take them off!"  "YEAH!"  several of the midshipmen and the
ship's boys exhaled simultaneously.  "Harry, come over here," Seth
commanded the little blond.  "Let's have that shirt!"  As Harry carefully
removed his white shirt, the young midshipman excitedly lowered the boy's
slops.  "Man, Harry, you're going to be a big'un," he whispered
appreciatively as he fondled the youth's pert buttocks.  Blushing - but
proud - Harry grinned and allowed himself to be handled.  "Now help me out
of this damned uniform!  You other guys!  Help each other out - and put
those clothes where they're not going to get dirty!" the 14 year old
commanded huskily.  Soon eight youngsters, naked as the day they were born
and visibly swollen, stood, looking nervously at each other.

Eddie, the oldest of the ship's boys, said that he knew of a game that they
might enjoy.  Taking the lantern, he led the way well into the middle of
the hold where there was an open area.  "Is it ok, sir," he asked
respectfully, "if the guys sit in a circle?"  "Yeah!  Everyone in a
circle!" the new commander of the party barked.  When everyone had arranged
himself - all eight boys now at full mast - he looked at Eddie and
exclaimed, "You're my second, Eddie!  Carry on!"  Immediately obeying his
chief's orders, the proud ship's boy directed, "It's a real easy game, men.
You've been doing it since you were kids.  Just grab it...gently...and do
what comes naturally."  Given the fact that they had just received a direct
military order - and the two biggest guys in the room were into it - even
the shyest of the shy began doing exactly that.  As was to be expected,
there was no way that the boys could long concentrate on their own alone.
Furtively, they began glancing to the right...then to the left...then
across the circle.  The tension in the hold fast became heavier than the
heat and the humidity!  The commander broke the ice when he reached down
and stroked Harry's rock-hard little cocklet - and a few of the bravest
followed suite with the guys beside them.  Within minutes, explosions
accompanied by loud moans and muffled "AHS!" erupted around the circle.
(As he rested wearily in the protective arms of his new hero, looking up
adoringly into his face, Harry wondered which of his buddies he dared tell
that he had just cum for the very first time!)

In other secluded places throughout the lower deck, of course, the
activities were not quite as...  innocent.  The youngest of the Eagle's
bosun's mates, for instance, led a very young Philadelphia lieutenant - a
particularly handsome 19 year old - into the First Mate's cabin.  "If I'm
caught," he giggled, "I'm dead, but it's worth the risk!"  "Bosun's mate,"
the Lieutenant ventured nervously, "it's hot as hell in here.  May I
suggest..."  Before he could say another word, the bosun's mate threw off
his slops and shirt, strode dominantly over to the officer, and began to
remove his uniform...piece by piece.  "Sir," the NCO growled, "you are one
impressive man.  I'd be proud to serve under your command."  Not daring -
not really WANTING - to say a word, the Lieutenant willingly surrendered
his authority, allowing himself to be slowly stripped by a powerful young
man who damned well knew what he was doing!  The tight uniform pants had to
be troublesome, he thought, for his hefty tackle was as hard as the steel
of his sword, but the bosun's mate surmounted the obstacle with infinite
skill.  Raising his chin to allow his partner's tongue to continue doing
whatever it was that was driving him out of his mind, he felt himself being
lifted effortlessly into the young man's arms and deposited on the Mate's
bunk.  Masterfully, the tongue and the caresses continued to send him into
an absolute frenzy.  He couldn't help it...he really couldn't.  Suddenly,
he simply exploded, spraying himself, his partner, and the bunk with a vast
supply of cum.  Grinning nervously...and apologetically, he raised a
muscular thigh and allowed the bosun's mate to lubricate him with the cum
available on every hand and expertly enter him from the side.  "Wow!" he
thought.  "What a tour!"

About halfway through the evening, the entire group reassembled on the deck
for the formal program.  Hugh recounted the story of the "Savage Attack"
off Antigua - and the subsequent efforts of the British to destroy the
Eagle.  He then announced that two sailors who had taken part in the attack
would recreate it...authentically.  To a heathen melody and with wild
barbaric cries, Jeremy Stuart and Andy Browne suddenly sprang over the
Eagle's bulwark.  Their stone axes in hand, their bodies dyed and painted,
their hair blackened and gathered in Carib fashion, they wore woven chest
pieces and caracolis - and nothing else!  The main part of the program was
seen in silhouette through a thin screen.  In pantomime, their axes chopped
and chopped again.  Enemies fell.  Finally, after a wild, pagan victory
dance, they raised their axes exultantly in victory.  Emerging from behind
the screen, the boys suddenly thrust their axes into the air and yelled,
"Three cheers for the Thirteen United States of America!"  The evening
ended with a roar from every throat that carried across the cove and up
towards the bright stars above.

After thanking Andy, Hugh later asked the youngster how he had possibly
volunteered for his role.  "No one other than Jeremy had the balls, sir,"
the youth replied, "and I kinda figured I owed you one!"  Hugh also asked
the boy if he had followed directions and applied the dye and paint only
after thoroughly greasing his body.  Told that he had, the Mate asked him
if he would like to contact Jeremy and see if the two of them could use
some help removing the color after the work of the evening had been
completed.  It had to be done rather quickly," Hugh noted, for otherwise it
would permeate the grease and the youngsters would just have to let it wear
off.  Andy could hardly believe what he was hearing.  He was being offered
help for the second time by the one man on the ship who most excited him?
Yes, he would check with Jeremy - and as fast as his legs could carry him!

The Eagle's sailors helped the older officers down to their boats.  (The
thanks of most seemed sincere - through all appeared a little numb.)  The
younger officers and midshipmen left on high, several pounding young men
from the Eagle on the back and doing everything but dance around the deck!
Refusing to chasten his young officers - though he cleared his throat as
they approached the gangway - Captain Martins, the last to leave, caught
Jeremiah up in a great bear hug, whispering, "I would never have believed
it had I not seen it with my own eyes.  It was a wonderful evening, and we
are grateful beyond measure to you and your men!  Godspeed, Jeremiah!  I
pray that we shall party again!"  Once the officers of the Philadelphia had
departed, Hugh had the bosun's mates announce that there was plenty of food
and drink still on the table - and more would be brought up from the
galley.  The men of the Eagle should not let it go to waste.  Neither a
scrap nor a swallow remained after 20 to 30 minutes!  Jeremiah and Hugh
passed among them, receiving and giving enthusiastic thanks on every side.

Sniffing the air suspiciously when he returned to his tiny cabin, Hugh
finally shrugged his shoulders and waited.  When everything had quieted
down, the Mate responded to a tap on his door and welcomed Jeremy and Andy
into his cubbyhole.  Once inside, Hugh embraced them both and thanked them
again for adding so much to the evening's festivities.  Andy, in
particular, was clearly beside himself.  Constantly rearranging himself on
the stool, shuffling his bare feet, and repeatedly clearing his throat, it
was obviously impossible for him to sit still.  "Ok, men, let's get to work
and get that dye and grease off your hides!  I see you've already taken
care of your hair.  Good!  Now, off with the shorts!"  With that, he rose,
removed his own clothing, and placed it into a crowded locker.  Pouring a
dilute solution of common lye soap and water into a ceramic basin, he
asked, "Who's first?"  "I'm game," Jeremy volunteered brightly and stepped
between the two young men.  "Andy, you get his front, and I'll get his
rear," Hugh ordered.  The young seaman couldn't believe the sensations he
was experiencing, as he ran a sponge - and his hands - over the redhead's
heavy arms, shoulders, and torso.  Within seconds, everyone was hard as
steel - but no one seemed to notice, let alone be embarrassed, so why
should he?  (He even winked back when Jeremy grinned at him and winked.)
He and his superior were simply taking care of a shipmate.  It was a job!
The "job" did get a mite more...trying when he reached Jeremy's lower
stomach.  Tentatively, he dabbed at the taut skin and the popping veins.
Even more tentatively, he dabbed at his buddy's genitals.  "That's not
going to help much, Andy," the Mate interrupted him.  Look, take a handful
of the cleaner and work it into his tackle."  Following instructions, Andy
worked on the beautiful redhead with both hands as he instinctively widened
his stance.  Gasping, Jeremy stretched upwards on the balls of his feet,
his thigh muscles quivering.  His eyes were closed, his thick neck thrown
back...  every tendon cast in high relief.  With a low cry, he suddenly
inundated Andy in a massive load.  Not quite sure what he had done wrong,
the innocent lad simply collapsed onto his knees, his forehead almost
touching the deck, his ears and neck now crimson with embarrassment.  Was
he about to lose everything?

The two young men gently lifted the sobbing youth between them and held him
close as they stroked his body and murmured calming words into his ears.
Slowly, his rigid muscles relaxed and he began to enjoy the affection - and
the sensations that were coursing through his body.  He even guessed that
he hadn't done anything so very...wrong.  "Ok, let's finish getting this
mess off Jeremy," Hugh finally whispered, and he and Andy resumed their
"job."  When Jeremy's body was relatively clean, the boy grinned at his
buddy and said, "Ok, Andy, now it's your turn!"  The innocent couldn't
quite believe how much he WANTED it to be "his turn."  He eyes closed, he
stood in ecstasy as warm hands caressed his body...roaming into every
crevice...cleansing every firm muscle.  He even imagined that he felt lips
brushing his flesh and teeth lightly nibbling his chest, his buttocks, and
his thighs.  As he grew more dizzy and began to feel himself losing all
control, Jeremy whispered into his ear.  "Andy, we could stop now - and
will, be that what you want.  If, however, you would like us to pleasure
you even more, we shall do that, too."  Secure in their arms, Andy slowly
opened his eyes, turned his head in one direction and then in the other,
and lightly...naively...brushed his lips against his friend's faces.  "I
want you to continue," he murmured shyly.

As lips and fingers kept him at a fever pitch, Andy - barely aware of what
was going on around him - suddenly realized that he was kneeling behind
Jeremy.  Hugh was helping him to place his heavily greased cock - in his
addled memory never as large, as hard, or as enflamed - against his
friend's anus.  Momentarily feeling fear, he hesitated - until his
shipmate's body nearly sucked him into a warm and velvet ecstasy that in
his wildest dreams he could never have imagined existed.  Later, lying
intertwined with the others, crying and laughing, kissing and caressing,
his body still tingling and demanding more, Andy thanked his lucky stars
that he had fought his fears and volunteered to be a Carib warrior.  Lawdy!
He couldn't BELIEVE how good his body felt - nor even REMEMBER why
extending his tongue (as he had just done) and swirling it around Hugh's
great, dripping glans would previously have been unthinkable.  "Oh, man,"
he sighed to himself, "what a way to say 'thanks!'  We may surmise that the
others felt the same way, for no man left that evening other than exhausted
and filled with exhilarating memories.

Within another day, the Philadelphia was ready to return to sea, her orders
calling for her to resume duties off Georgia and the Carolinas after
completing her foray into the Greater Antilles.  The Eagle left early the
next morning, disrupting commercial shipping all the way across the
Caribbean until the British were fair out of their minds.  Was this a GHOST
ship?


(To Be Continued)