We sailed into the deep, early-morning shadow of this new eastern range of mountains. Though sore from yesterday’s exercise, Pete, Chris, and I forced ourselves to engage in another round of calisthenics; though, with considerably less competition and enthusiasm. Pete was even moved to lament how lax he had allowed his physique to become. He readily agreed to spar the next time we went ashore. Then we all discussed whether we should sail through the night or not, only to decide that we should not make such a decision until we saw what fickle things the mountains did in our path throughout the remainder of the day.
We did not see the sun rise above the mountains until late morning. By then, we were trying to convince ourselves the seemingly-unrelieved haze that blended ocean and sky to the northeast was truly the end of this annoying jut of land and not a trick of the clouds masking more of the same. By mid-afternoon we were sure the mountains did end ahead, and we would be able to turn east again—thus greatly increasing our chances of soon being able to head south; as we assuredly must to round the island.
Then Pete snapped, “Ship!” He was standing on the gunwale with his hand on the mast in order to see farther ahead.
Cudro and Gaston joined him in standing, and Ash, Chris, I attempted to sink lower in order to keep our small craft stable. Those standing peered at the point of land marking the end of the mountains ahead. Those sitting peered up at them.
Cudro finally swore and sat with a worried frown.
“There is a ship anchored there,” Gaston said with concern as he, too, sat. “At least a large sloop, but possibly a two-master of some type. She is not moving.”
I stood and peered where they had. If I squinted and turned my head from side to side I could occasionally see what looked to be the darker slice of a hull above the glittering waves in the distant haze. There was the glint of mast from time to time.
“A port?” I asked.
“Nay,” Cudro said. “She’s too far from shore.”
He was adjusting our sail and the tiller and bringing us closer to the beach.
I looked up the line of the land and out until I spied the mysterious vessel again. “We could see her well enough from shore, non?”
Pete and Cudro nodded.
I looked to the sun slowly sinking toward the west. “What do we say the distance to her is?”
“Two leagues, perhaps,” Cudro said.
I looked to Pete. “Well, we wished to run a little, did we not?”
He swore and grumbled under his breath as he donned his baldric and belt.
“Let us get closer,” Cudro said.
We were now close enough to shore that we could not see the vessel anymore. Cudro sailed at least a league farther and then ran us aground on a spit of beach that had a large outcrop of rock between it and the mysterious ship. We pushed our craft ashore and into the brush to hide her from sight.
“Be careful,” Gaston said with great worry as I checked the powder in my pistols and musket.
“Well, I shall not endeavor to be reckless,” I assured him and gave him a kiss that he returned with fervor.
Then I set off with Pete at a jog. It felt good to stretch my cramped muscles again, but I prayed we would not find the need to run back.
We ran along the beach until we reached the outcrop of rock—a small point of land, actually. We climbed it and found we could see the vessel up ahead from about a league’s distance. Judging from the sun and the way the land fell toward the sea to the north, the ship was anchored at the end of the eastern range of mountains. We kept to the forest, though it slowed us greatly, as we made our way closer to the mysterious craft.
Our caution was rewarded when we saw two men sitting atop a rock outcropping ahead. They were smoking pipes and looking up the beach Pete and I had just avoided walking on. We sank deeper into the foliage and made a slow and careful job of achieving the side of the mountain well above and behind the men. From this new vantage point we were able to survey the shallow bay, just beyond which the ship was anchored. She was indeed a sleek but large sloop, and she flew Spanish colors. The pristine beach was marred by three canoes and three sets of footprints. One headed toward the pair of men we had seen, one headed to the middle of the bay, and the third to the outcropping to the east. We sat still and perused the forest and rocks in those directions, until we at last spotted the middle set of men in the golden evening light. They were well above us on a shoulder of mountain, where they could see the bay and the sea beyond.
“They’reWatchin’ FerSomethin’.” Pete said.
“Aye, I see that. And they are not merely keeping watch in order to protect some activity ashore. Unless they plan to pull her ashore and careen her in the morning,” I added. “Or are they smugglers and waiting to meet with someone here?”
“TheyBeLookin’ FerUs.”
I wanted to disagree with him, but my Horse, gut, and even seat of reason were thinking him correct. If the plantation we had stolen the goats from had sent a rider to the port we had passed several days ago, they would have had two choices to track us down: one, they could sail along the shore in the direction we had been going—with us several days ahead of them and possibly perpetually out of reach—even when one considered how fast the sloop would be compared to our little flyboat; or two, they could sail directly across what we had not known was a large bay, and thus wait for us at the point of land we would have to round in order to continue our course around the island.
And, even if Pete and I were engaging in hubris as to our importance in the scheme of these men’s lives, they were still our enemies and squarely in our path.
I swore under my breath. “We will have to sail around them in the night; but damn it, what if the land on the other side of this point takes some unexpected jog? I suppose if we sail far enough to the north, we can…”
“ShutUp,” Pete said with a smile. “YouAn’MeNeedTa ClimbUpThere An’See.” He pointed straight up the wall of stone and jungle behind us.
“To the Devil with you,” I said with a sigh.
He chuckled.
“Not in the dark,” I added.
“Nay, Let’sGoTellTheOthers. KeepHidden. GoAtFirstLight.”
I nodded my grudging agreement and we retraced our steps back through the brush until we were out of sight of their lookouts. We ran the last stretch of beach as the sun set. Gaston had to whistle to us before we passed them.
No one was happy with our news; but truly, we were all happier to have it now when we sat safe in the dark a league from our enemies than having to surmise it while they chased our slow little craft down with cannon.
“Do not go up quickly, and do not come down quickly,” Gaston urged as he massaged my aching muscles. “There is no need. We can stay here for days.”
“But I will miss you,” I teased and did a little massaging of my own upon his crotch.
He slapped my hand away. “You must rest.”
I snorted. “I shall not rest until all parts of me are sufficiently tired.”
With an amused sigh, he redirected his pleasing fingers until every part of me was empty and ready for sleep.
Pete and I set out at first light, laden with a water skin, some roast goat, and our weapons. The way was too steep to go straight up the mountain above our camp, so we worked our way through the forest, climbing ever higher to the north and the point until we were far above the place where the Spanish vessel and her watchers squatted. We knew we had crossed the tip of the range when we were assaulted by the brunt of the wind that blew clouds in from the sea to the east. We were still far below the summit, and so we continued to climb the edge of the peak where there were few trees—going south now. The sun was well to the west when it disappeared into the dense clouds and the rain started. We could not see any distance, and the mud and stone were becoming treacherous—especially as we were staggering with exhaustion. We admitted defeat for the day and retreated to the lee of the mountain shoulder to escape the wind and the worst of the rain.
It had becom
e quite cold. I was sure it was no cooler than a balmy day in London, but to men covered in sweat from exertion and very accustomed to being overly warm in the tropical heat, it had become miserably chilly. We cursed and huddled together under an overhang of rock like a pair of wet cats. We at last curled together for the mutual warmth and slept.
The day dawned bright, clear, and full of birdsong. I disengaged myself from Pete’s clinging limbs and found he had a fine erection in the process. I put some distance between us and stiffly stood to relieve myself on the rocks. He blinked sleepily, seemed confused for a moment as to my identity, and then cursed and rolled onto his back to slip a hand in his breeches and relieve himself in another manner. I ignored him and clambered back up onto the ridge we had been climbing.
Even though we had not achieved the summit, the view was excellent, and I quickly decided we need climb no higher. The storm had blown the haze away, and I could see for leagues in every direction. It was dizzying, and I found myself squatting: as if I feared falling off the mountain, even though there was no precipitous cliff in any direction. If I had fallen over, the most I would have dropped was five feet or so off the rock I sat atop.
The ridge we had climbed was indeed the northernmost edge of a short, mountainous peninsula that ran southwest to northeast. To the south and east, the land dipped in to form a vee before jutting back out to the east in another high and rocky sweep of forested mountain. I could not know what lie beyond that easternmost point. It could be the tip of another peninsula, or simply a place where the land turned south. It could even be a trick of the eye.
I was not here to gauge what could not be known from this vantage, though: I was here to see what could actually be seen. I looked to the west of the peninsula I stood upon and saw I could just perceive where the land turned west. It had taken us most of a day to sail from there to where our boat was now—somewhere below me. Using that distance, I could judge the others somewhat.
When Pete joined me, I pointed to what I had found. “We should be able to sail a large box around them and this bay here to the east. If we use the northern star and sail due west at night for half a night, then turn north and sail until dawn, and then turn east and sail into the sun sets, and then turn south and sail throughout the night, we should be somewhere near that point to the southeast.”
He sniffed and nodded. “IfTheWindHolds TheSame. IfThereBeNo Storms. ItBeNearin’ ThatSeasonNow.”
“Aye,” I sighed. “We will have to trust in Cudro to adjust our course if we encounter fickle winds or weather. We can at least get around the Spaniards and into this bay within a night and a day if it comes to that.”
“YaThinkCudro’s AnyGood?” Pete asked without sarcasm.
I shrugged. I had been worrying along those lines, but I would not surrender to it. “He is not the Bard to be sure, but he has performed as an adequate captain… When he has had charts, and instruments, and a pilot, and…” I sighed.
“ThatBeTrue,” Pete sighed. “The BardWouldBe Cursin’EveryMoment ’Cause’EWouldn’t KnowWhereWeBeEither.”
“Or maybe he is very familiar with this side of Hispaniola and he would find our consternation at the changing shoreline amusing or pitiable.”
Pete grunted, and slid his musket across his shoulders with his hands gripping both ends, so that he appeared rather like Christ on the Cross as he surveyed the sea and mountains around us.
“DoYaThinkChris CouldBeGentledDown?” he asked.
“What?” I had been considering our best course down the mountain and I was as confounded by the change of topic as I was by the actual question.
He sighed as if he had expected my response and yet was still disappointed by it. “IBeenThinkin’ YaAllWereRight. Chris’llNeed AMatelot WhenWeReach CowIsland. ItBeBetterIffn’ ItWereOneO’Us.”
“Aye. So are you planning on aiding the matter by pretending to be his matelot?”
“IBeThinkin’ OnMore ThanPretendin’. I’mTiredO’Goin’Without. ItKeepsUp, YurMatelot’llBeAt MyThroat’CauseI’ll HaveDoneSomethin’ Stupid.”
“With me? To Me? Toward me?” My Horse was glaring at him with concern and annoyance. How dare he assume I would… anything? And how could I stop him if he went mad and attempted it anyway?
He gave a great resigned sigh and looked away as if he could hear my thoughts and they brought him guilt.
That worried me even more. “Pete, I love you like a brother, but I will kill you it that occurs. Gaston is in no condition to fight you. As much as I respect and admire you, I will not submit to any attempts at philandering. I have had enough of that in my life.”
“WellIWouldna’ ForceYa,” he said with a pout.
“Oh for the Gods’… Pete, if not for Gaston, you would only need look at me and I would have my ankles about my ears.”
“Truly?”
“Truly, you great arse.” I slung my musket across my back and began to climb down.
I did not think he would become so deranged as to attack me; but sadly, the fear was there. I was amazed my Horse did not tremble in anticipation of such an event. I supposed much had changed since Thorp and my healing from that. Still, I did not know what I would do or how I would feel if Pete actually came at me with a hard cock and harder hunger in his blue eyes. That image tweaked some string in my soul: it was still not one connected to my cock, though; but rather to my feet and my urge to flee.
Yet, what I had told him was true: if not for Gaston, I would have welcomed him.
We truly needed to get Pete laid. Apparently strenuous exercise and untenable circumstances were not enough to assuage his Horse. Could Chris be convinced to accept him?
“IBeSerious ’BoutChris,” Pete said when we stopped to rest a few hundred feet down the slope.
“Good,” I said with no sarcasm. “I feel you are correct, you need to be laid, often. I, however, do not know how she will respond to the actuality of being a matelot—yours or anyone’s. Her one experience with a man was less than pleasant for her.”
“’ERape’ErTrue, OrWere’EJust RoughOn’Er?”
“As I understand it, she attempted to seduce him and he responded by striking her enough to stun her and forcibly taking what he would.”
Pete sighed. “SoItBeSlowThen.”
I sighed. “Aye. And kind, Pete, very kind.”
“ICanBeGentle,” he said with annoyance. “IWereGood WithSarah.”
I supposed he had been. Still… “It took Gaston a long time to gentle me down, and I wanted him. You will have to court her such that she wants you, and then gentle her down such that she wants your cock.”
He sighed, appeared annoyed, and finally shrugged. “ItBeSomethin’TaDo.”
He started walking again and I followed him into the brush. I was not sure if I should warn Chris. By the time we were halfway down the mountain, I had resolved I would not meddle. By the time we reached the promontory above the bay the Spaniards waited in, I was too damn tired to care what he did with her or how she felt about it.
We found our friends and my loved one as the sun began to sink in the west. I caught a brief second wind at the sight and feel of Gaston. Pete did not, and he collapsed on the beach to sleep as soon as he found a shady hollow. With an act of will, I remained coherent enough to sketch what we had seen in the sand and explain about the large box to circumnavigate the Spaniards and the bay on the other side of the peninsula. Cudro asked me a number of questions, and I answered them as best I could. He seemed worried about the concerns Pete had voiced this morning, mainly storms. I could not help him with that.
Finally, I left them to prepare to depart after the sun set, and I crawled into the temporary shelter Gaston had fashioned and slept for a short while. All too soon, my matelot roused me in the gathering darkness and prodded me into the boat. Thankfully, no one asked me to help push it to sea or expected Pete or me to do much of anything.
Thus I slept as we rounded the Spaniards’ position and only woke with the rising of the sun, to find my
self entangled in Gaston’s sleeping arms with a welcome member prodding my backside. I recalled all I must tell my man, but it would have to wait. Ash was at the tiller, and now that it was light he was rousing everyone so that we could check our position such as we were able. I made a prayer to the Gods, stood, and looked about. We were sailing into the sun, and to the southeast I saw a smudge of land across the horizon. I sighed with great relief.
“That should be the point of land with the Spaniards,” I said and pointed.
“Aye,” Cudro boomed happily. “The wind has held steady and your navigation has proved true.” He sobered and sighed. “We’ll see what the afternoon brings.”
“Well, if we can get east of that point by noon, we can always turn south if we see clouds,” I said.
All agreed, Gaston relieved Ash at the tiller, and we all shared a little fruit. Pete and I had no wish to exercise this morn, and Ash refused to do anything but sleep, complaining he had spent the night keeping Cudro company and then took the last watch. He crawled toward the bow and curled up. His matelot joined him and they cuddled companionably. To my surprise, Chris dutifully began exercising without further prompting. Pete, of course, began to harangue him congenially.
I was thankfully left relatively alone with Gaston in the stern. I told him of my conversation with Pete. I saw my man’s Horse come and go in waves of frowns and glaring.
The Golden One was not blind.
“What?” he demanded quietly as he came to join us in the stern. His demeanor was one of worry mixed with an unhealthy dollop of defensiveness.
“Do not ever look at Will again,” Gaston growled so that only the three of us could hear him.
I cringed as Pete’s face hardened at my man’s tone; then the Golden One capitulated and appeared quite the chastened youth. “IBeSorry, Gaston,” he said as quietly as my matelot had spoken. “IJustBeLonely. IWouldNe’er DoThatToYa.”
My Horse heard a thing He did not like and my anger flared. I barely managed to keep my voice low. “Wait. Wait. As if you could. I am not some wanton tart in a tavern.” Both men flinched at my tone: I pressed on. “I do not need my man laying edicts on me, and as for you,” I told Pete, “if you ever seek to lay a hand on me, I will kill you—or die trying. If your mighty cock so rules you, then it had best listen well and know it will only have my dead body.”
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