by Lou Cameron
“Don’t be ridiculous! I am only fucking interested in, as well you know by now, you brute!”
But, of course, it was a long night, there was nothing else to do in there but catnap now and again—all jammed together and rubbing together as the bows rose and fell. So by morning everyone had done everything that didn’t hurt to everyone else. Captain Gringo even got some sleep, since a mere male could only enjoy a limited number of orgasms, even entangled with three beautiful nymphomaniacs.
Fortunately he was awake when he heard footsteps on the deck above and rose just as the hatch popped open to shed some light on the subject. It was Beatriz. He didn’t think she could see what was going on around his bare shins as she said, “I’m about to go on watch. But I just made Moors and Christians. Would you like for me to bring your breakfast trays forward or do you want to come aft? You must wish for to stretch your legs on deck by now, no?”
He told her they’d come aft and eat with the crew, mostly because he wanted to get rid of her poco tiempo. When he did, he ducked down and told the girls to get dressed, adding, “For god’s sake, Hilda, that’s your sister you’re going sixty-nine with!”
Hilda sighed and said, “I know. We decided as long as we to hell were going for experimenting with unnatural lusts we might as well incest also try.”
He hunkered down without further comment to haul on his pants at least, slapping Atanua’s brown hand away from his weary balls. Then he mounted the machine gun on the tripod nailed to the deck again and told the three of them he’d bring them something else to eat in a while. Atanua giggled and said there was no hurry.
He climbed stiffly out and moved aft, where he found Beatriz still dishing out the rice and beans in the cockpit. One of the other Costa Ricans was at the helm. Beatriz explained that her hombre, Alberto, was having breakfast in bed. Captain Gringo wondered what else the skipper had just had in bed, but it would have been unfair as well as silly to ask. He’d noticed the main cabin was partitioned into one large and a few smaller compartments. If it had been his vessel and Beatriz had been his mujer, that’s the way he’d have worked it, too. He wondered, as he ate his simple but hearty breakfast, why he was wondering about things like that after an all-night orgy with three dames at least as nice looking as old Beatriz. That was the trouble with pretty women. No matter how many a guy had, he always noticed one he couldn’t have.
By now everyone else had been served. So he asked the mestiza for what was left in the pot, in three tin dishes. She served up breakfast for the girls, asking politely if the redhead was still seasick. He told her Alfrieda had recovered after a good night’s rest and Beatriz looked away, blushing. He didn’t ask why. If she and Alberto shared the forward compartment of the main cabin, they’d been sharing a thin bulkhead between all concerned as well, and, yeah, Hilda had been making a lot of noise.
He asked the Costa Rican girl, casually, if she spoke any English. Her blush grew darker but her voice remained calm as she answered, “Si, a little. Let me help you with the dishes for your, ah, good friends.”
He let her, since he didn’t really have three hands. She waited until they were out of earshot from anyone, amidships, before she switched to not-bad English anyway and said, “I should not speak behind Alberto’s back. He is not a bad man. But you and me are old comrades in arms, no?”
“What’s been going on behind my back, the usual?”
“Si, the men have been discussing how far they mean to follow you in this matter, Captain Gringo. They are willing for to go out to the Guardian Bank, as they agreed. But you have the reputation for wildness, once you get to where you are going. Alberto says if you go crazy and start a fight out there, you are, how you say, on your own?”
He nodded soberly and said, “Thanks, old comrade. But don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’m not as crazy as some may think. The guns we brought along are just a precaution in case someone tries to start a fight with us. This is simply a scouting expedition. I’m not looking for a naval engagement with a bigger outfit.”
“Do you really think my head is pretty, Captain Gringo?”
“The rest of you’s not bad either, and you can call me ‘Dick’ if you want to.”
She sighed and said, “Oh, I want to, muy mucho. But we never seem to meet when both of us are free. Forgive me, I mean no disrespect, but are you with all three of those other adelitas this time?”
He chuckled and said, “What can I tell you, there’s always room for one more? I don’t think we’d better take this any further, do you?”
“No, I fear I would wind up killing someone, and, of course, if Alberto found out he would probably wind up killing me.”
*
The seas were rougher than usual for the time of the year, but the trades blew harder, so otherwise the sail went smoothly and at times La Paloma almost made six or even seven knots on the crests of the long ground swells. Captain Gringo spent most of the time lazing on deck as the rather monotonous day wore on. Around noon they spotted a smoke plume on the north horizon. But they never sighted the ship that was apparently steaming so importantly, and of course, if they couldn’t make her out, she had no way of spotting a smaller vessel under sail alone to her south.
The three girls up forward had run out of naughty ideas, and came out on deck as well later in the day. Nobody but Captain Gringo seemed to notice the German girls had gotten their mumus mixed up. Atanua’s tiny tapa cloth attracted more attention from the more severely brought-up crew. But there were things to be said for going to sea coed. So nobody bothered the nearly naked vahine.
In mid-afternoon, Captain Gringo went below to catch a little serious sleep, giving serious orders to the girls before he did so. Hence, though Atanua woke him up a few hours later by tugging on his dong, it was only to tell him the sun was setting again in case he wanted to do anything about it.
He went aft and ate tortillas and beans with the skipper and Beatriz, even though Atanua called him a sissy. Alberto said that at the rate they were sailing, they might make the outer reefs of the Guardian Bank just after sunset. Captain Gringo glanced up and said, “With that cloud cover, there should be some twilight until, say, eight-thirty. Can do?”
Alberto grimaced and replied, “It is in the tricky light just before dawn or after sunset that a sailor’s eyes play tricks on him. I told you I do not know the waters ahead. I certainly hope those German sisters do. The tiny islands of the Guardian Bank are no place to be shipwrecked, even when they are not being held by piratical slavers, eh?”
Captain Gringo told him he worried too much and moved forward to make sure the Maxim was still there. It was. So was Hilda. The blonde was seated cross-legged with her back braced against the cabin. He asked where the redhead and Atanua were, and she said, “Below, acting silly again. Ich bin trying to break the habit. Now that I have mitt such vices experimented, I think I like men best.”
He sat beside her and said, “I noticed, and I’m so glad. Now that we’re, ah, sort of old friends, would you tell me a secret, Hilda?”
She shrugged and said, “Ist no use trying to pretend mein sister und me virgins are, now. Perhaps in Bremerhaven Alfrieda und me a little wild were considered by the neighbors, growing up. But you also must have neighbors shocked in your own time, nicht wahr?”
He smiled thinly and said, “That’s not what I’m worried about right now. The charts say the islets ahead are all small and almost featureless. Alberto, back in the stem, has no idea where the hell we’re making landfall. So let’s talk about how you’re going to be able to tell one patch of coral from another in lousy light.”
She shrugged and answered, “It was your idea to use me as your pilot, Dick. I said I would know where we were if we were anywhere near the parts of the bank I have geseen. The last time we out here were, in a much faster yacht, we had to poke about among the deserted bits of land for the one mitt Halle und Feldmacher’s compound on it gebuilt. Once we are anywhere near the island they occupy, it i
st easy to see, over the horizon. Aside from tin roofing, they have also a watchtower in the middle of the slave camp gebuilt. It looks like ein water tower, except up in it they a machine gun like this one keep.”
“Are you sure it’s a Maxim, not a Spandau?”
“Gott in Himmel, how should I know? I never up in the guard tower was. But while we were there they fired at some natives, powpowpow from up there. I think it was only to scare them. I don’t know why.”
He grimaced and said, “I do,” as he took out a claro and lit it. Then he said, “When a small band of guys are guarding a bigger bunch, they like to scare them a lot. Keeps prisoners from getting ideas about rushing their captors, and as you may have noticed, Kanakas are sort of impulsive. How many guards and how many prisoners are we talking about, by the way? Manukai could only tell me a mess of her people were being held out there, and that they had armed steam launches along with the tower gun you just cheered me up about. I’d feel better if I had some exact numbers, and you’ve been there.”
Hilda shook her head and said, “Exact numbers I can’t give you, Dick. I told you they would not let us everything see. I remember the steam launches. At least two they have, mitt also machine guns mounted on the bows. The natives number maybe two hundred. Not all pearl divers are. Some work at other jobs for the blackbirders. Also some are house servants for the lazy company men. Some of the womens, now that I know Atanua, are no doubt there to provide other services for the blackbirders, nicht wahr?”
“Why jerk off when you don’t have to? Okay, I can picture the overall layout. All I have to do now is pinpoint the exact island and the best way to approach it. Did you come in to lee or windward aboard that yacht?”
She thought and said, “Straight in, the way we are going, I think.”
“You think? You don’t know? In these waters, most landings are made on the lee side of most islands, Honey.”
“Ach, ja, I remember our charter skipper mentioning this, now. He also said it was dangerous to have the harbor the prevailing winds facing. But on the lee side is all shoal water. That ist where the pearls are growing. Once der Guardian Bank must have one big flat island been. Now it ist slowly sen alles sinking, mitt only the bumps up gesticking.”
He nodded, said it made sense, and that all they could do now was wait. So they did. It took a million years for the sun ahead of them to set. Then it took another million before the Costa Rican lookout called down that he saw breakers ahead in the purple twilight. So Captain Gringo yelled down into the chain locker for Atanua and the redhead to get dressed and move aft for Chrissake. Then, when they finally did so, he dropped down into the hatch with Hilda so they could stand side by side behind the machine gun as she conned them in, or tried to.
Alberto ordered the sails reefed halfway and swung broadside to the trades. They still moved La Paloma a-lee, albeit more slowly. Beatriz moved forward to tell Captain Gringo the skipper wanted to know what happened next. He told Hilda it was her turn. The German girl squinted west at what looked like seas breaking halfway up a big white mud pie and said, “I think it was more to the north we went. Ja, das rock in the middle of barren sand looks familiar. The main island was to the north, I am now sure.”
Captain Gringo sent the Costa Rican girl aft with the message. La Paloma started moving north as Alberto ordered the lug sails higher, but she clawed off the leeward shoals with her helm hard over. A few minutes later Captain Gringo spied another island ahead and asked Hilda, “Well? I don’t see any tin roofs, Doll.”
She said, “Farther north. I am almost sure, now.”
Then Beatriz returned to say they’d spotted a light astern, a bright one. So Captain Gringo climbed out to follow her aft, with the blonde trailing behind. In the cockpit, Alberto pointed at the chalky white sky glow to the south and said, “It’s limelight. I have seen it before. Squid fishermen use it a lot for fishing at night.”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “So somebody must be fishing over that way, if not for squid, for something else. You say you coast fishermen seldom come out this far, Alberto?”
“Santa Maria, we never come out this far unless someone pays us to. For why would we wish to catch fish so far from land? How could we preserve them without ice, sailing upwind so far to the market, eh?”
“Makes sense. Let’s swing back and take a peek at that mysterious limelight.”
Hilda protested, “Dick, I am sure we did not so far south land.” But he said, “Yeah, and one boulder in the middle of a sand flat looks a lot like any other. Put about, Alberto. I’ve got another idea about limelights lit up just after dark. I heard they’ve been using them on Cuba, at those new concentration camps the Spanish have invented.”
*
Captain Gringo was right. As the blacked-out La Paloma moved south just outside the breaker line, a tall black tower surrounded by shinier metal roofing rose above the horizon, brightly illuminated by the chalk-white glare of limelight searchlights. Alberto, at the helm, said, “Bueno. I can mark that island on the chart for you. So now we head back to the mainland, no?”
Captain Gringo said, “Steady as she goes. I have to see where the captives are being held and if there’s a fence to worry about or if they just use the sharks to keep everyone in at night.”
“You are going to get us all killed,” muttered Alberto. But he kept his heading as others—some grumbling ominously about crazy gringo Peeping Toms—took up defensive positions along the deck with their Krags. Captain Gringo didn’t blame them. He was sure they were invisible from the shore right now, blacked out against the dark eastern sky. But the compound was bigger than he’d expected, and worse yet, there was little or no cover for a landing party.
A little scrub grew here and there in patches on the flat coral island—not enough to hide more than one or two behind in any one place. So, yeah, it would have to be a frontal attack against at least one machine-gun position, if and when. He still might be able to talk the princess and her people out of it.
He climbed out of the cockpit for a better look, and spotted improvised thatched shelters beyond the tin roofs and guard tower. He muttered, “Okay, the prisoners are out of our line of attack if we’re careful about plunging fire. But where the hell are the docking facilities you mentioned, Hilda? I don’t see any landing place. The effing waves are just washing in along the whole windward beach.”
She said, “I’m not sure this ist the island we landed on, Dick. It looks like it, aber in some ways it doesn’t. Could not there be two pearl-diving operations out here?”
“I had to ask. Okay, I’ve seen what there is to see, here at least. Let’s get out of here, Alberto!”
The man at the helm grinned and said that sounded like a hell of a good idea. Then, as Alberto swung the helm hard over, he died, and so did some of the others, when machine-gun fire raked La Paloma from stem to stern!
Beatriz shouted, “Man the Maxim, Deek!” as she grabbed the helm to swing it hard over the other way, keeping her head down as more hot lead smashed into the cabin bulkhead just above it. Captain Gringo ran forward as the gunner of the steam launch that had been shadowing them astern lent wings to his heels by chewing up the deck behind him. Then he dropped behind his own machine gun as Beatriz, bless her, swung La Paloma broadside to the approaching steam launch.
The other pilot didn’t seem to care. He steered to ram the lugger amidships with his metal-sheathed bow as Captain Gringo, ignoring that for the moment, drew a bead on the winking muzzle flare of the other automatic weapon and opened up with his own.
The results were more than he’d hoped for. The blackbirders hadn’t expected another machine gun aboard what looked like simply a nosy fishing boat. So he ploughed them good from stem to stem with point-blank raking fire. The other gunner in the bows was blown back from the breechblock of his Spandau as more rounds punched holes in the steam boiler amidships. The boiler did what any high-pressure boiler would do with holes punched in it. It blew up, scalding hell out of a
nyone that hadn’t already been shot. One plate blew out through the launch’s hull just below the water line. So as it fell dead in the water, it also proceeded to turn turtle.
Everyone aboard La Paloma should have been cheering about now. But nobody was, and someone was calling Beatriz a stupid cow. Captain Gringo tore his gaze from the sinking launch, and while “cow” seemed a little cruel, he understood why everyone seemed so upset. La Paloma was headed directly ashore, and on shore, guys were running around like the ants of a stomped nest, shouting in German and waving rifles in the limelit glare they were sailing right into!
He didn’t yell back at Beatriz. He knew the poor kid was doing her best to do almost anything else as breakers broke over the stem, driving the lugger aground in the shallows. He dropped below, scooped up more ammo boxes, and lobbed them up on deck. Then he climbed out and started hauling the tripod out of the deck planking as, yeah, the first mortar round from somewhere ashore keened over the lugger to explode astern. Just astern!
It didn’t take a degree in military science to see the disadvantages of remaining on a stationary target while at least one mortar was ranging on it. So he had lots of company in the bow as he finished tugging the gun mount free. A couple of guys had already jumped overboard to struggle shoreward in the chest-high surf One had even thought to keep his rifle. Beatriz dropped to her bare knees by Captain Gringo, sobbing, “I tried! I could not beat back out to sea against the wind and surf!”
He said, “I noticed. Grab a couple of ammo boxes and follow me.”
She did. Atanua had made it close enough to catch the last order as well. So as he waded ashore with the Maxim held high, the two girls followed with at least four boxes of ammo in addition to the belt he’d already reloaded with. The only problem, now, was what the fuck he was supposed to do with it!
As they waded ashore and dropped behind the biggest clump of brush they could find, one of the crewmen who’d beaten them ashore was walking toward the limelight with his hands held high in surrender, shouting for mercy. He didn’t get much. A fusillade of rifle fire cut him down like a dog.