She laid those small white hands on each of her glowing pink buttocks and drew them gently apart. This time Hal could not choke back the little abandoned cry that rose to his lips as the deep crease of her bottom opened to his feverish gaze.
Zelda bustled back into the cabin bearing an armful of towels. Katinka straightened and the enchanted crevice closed firmly, its secrets hidden once more from his eyes. She stepped from the bath and Zelda draped a towel over her shoulders that hung to her ankles. Zelda loosened the coil of her mistress's hair and brushed it out, and then braided it into a thick golden rope. She stood behind Katinka and held a gown for her to slip her arms into the sleeves, but Katinka shook her head and gave a peremptory order. Zelda protested but Katinka insisted and the maid threw the gown over the stool and left the cabin in an obvious pet.
When she was gone Katinka let the towel drop to the deck and, naked once more, crossed to the door and slid the locking bolt into place. Then she turned back and passed out of Hal's sight.
He saw a fuzzy pink blur of movement in the clouded mirror but could not be sure what she was doing until, abruptly and shockingly, her lips were an inch from the opposite side of his peep-hole and she hissed viciously at him, "You filthy little Pirate!" She spoke in Latin, and he recoiled as though she had flung a kettle of boiling water into his face.
Even in his confusion, though, the taunt had stung him to the quick, and he answered her, without thinking, "I am not a pirate. My father carries Letters of Marque."
"Don't you dare to contradict me." Confusingly she was switching between Latin, Dutch and English. But her tone was sharp and stinging as a scourge.
Again he was stung into a reply. "I did not mean to offend you."
"When my noble husband finds out that you have been spying on me, he will go to your pirate father, and they will have you flogged on the tripod like those other men this morning."
"I was not spying on you, -" "Liar!" She would not let him finish. "You dirty lying pirate." For a moment she had run out of breath and insults. "I only wanted to, -" Her fury was recharged. "I know what you wanted. You wanted to look at my katjie, -" he knew that was the Dutch word for kitten " and then you wanted to take your cock in your hand and pull it, -" "NoV Hal almost shouted. How had she known his shameful secret? He felt sick and mortified.
"Quiet! Zelda will hear you," she hissed again. "If they catch you it will be the lash."
"Please!" he whispered back. "I meant no harm. Please forgive me.
I did not mean it."
"Then show me. Prove your innocence. Show me your cock."
"I can't. "His voice quivered with shame.
"Stand up! Put it here next to the hole so I can see if you are lying."
"No. Please don't make me do that."
"Quickly or I -will scream for my husband to come." Slowly he came to his feet. The peep-hole was at almost exactly the same level as his aching crotch.
"Now, show me. Open your breeches, her voice goaded him.
Slowly, consumed by shame and embarrassment he lifted the canvas skirt, and before it was fully raised his penis jumped out like the springy branch of a sapling. He knew she must be nauseated and speechless with disgust to see such a thing. After a minute of thick, charged silence that seemed the longest in his life, he began to lower his skirt over himself.
Instantly she stopped him in a voice that seemed to him to tremble with revulsion, so that he could hardly understand her distorted English words.
"No! Do not seek to cover your shame. This thing of yours condemns you. Do you still pretend you are guiltless?" "No,"he admitted miserably.
"Then you must be punished," she told him. "I must tell your father."
"Please don't do that," he pleaded. "He would kill me with his own hands."
"Very well. I shall have to punish you myself. Bring your cock closer."
Obediently he pushed his hips forward. "Closer, so I can reach it. Closer."
He felt the tip of his distended penis touch the rough wood that surrounded the peep-hole, and then shockingly cool soft fingers closed over the tip. He tried to pull away, but her grip tightened and her voice was sharp. "Stay still!"
Katinka knelt at the bulkhead and threaded his glans through the opening, then eased it out into the lamp-light. It was so swollen that it could barely fit through the hole.
"No, do not pull away," she told him, making her voice stern and angry, as she took a firmer grip upon him. Obediently he relaxed and gave himself over to the insistent pressure of her fingers, allowing her to draw his full length through the opening.
She gazed at it, fascinated. At his age she had not expected him to be so large. The engorged head was the glossy purple of a ripe plum. She drew the loose prepuce over it, like a monk's cowl, and then pulled back the skin again as far it would go. The head seemed to swell harder as though on the point of bursting, and she felt the shaft jump in her hands.
She repeated the movement, slowly forward and then back again, and heard him groan beyond the panel. It was strange but she had almost forgotten the boy. This mannikin she held in her hands had a life and existence of its own.
"This is your punishment, you dirty, shameless boy."
She could hear his fingernails scratching at the wood, as her hand began to fly back and forth along the full length of him as though she were working the shuttle of a weaver's loom.
It happened sooner than she had expected. The hot glutinous spurting against her sensitive breasts was so powerful that it startled her, but she did not pull away.
After a time, she said, "Do not think that I have forgiven you yet for what you have done to me. Your penitence has only just begun. Do you understand?"
"Yes." His voice was ragged and hoarse.
"You must make a secret opening in this wall." She tapped the bulkhead softly with her knuckle. "Loosen this panel so that you can come through to me, and I can punish you more severely. Do you understandT "Yes, he panted.
"You must conceal the opening. No one else must know."
"It is my observation," Sir Francis told Hal, "that filth and sickness have a peculiar affinity, one for the other. I know not why this should be, but it is so."
He was responding to his son's cautious enquiry as to why it was necessary to go through the onerous and odious business of fumigating the ship. With all the cargo out of her and most of the crew billeted ashore Sir Francis was determined to try to rid the hull of vermin. It seemed that every crack in the woodwork swarmed with lice, and the holds were overrun with rats. The galley was littered with the black pellets of their droppings, and Ned Tyler had reported finding some of the stinking bloated carcasses rotting in the water casks.
Since the day of their arrival in the lagoon a shore party had been burning cordwood and leaching the ashes to obtain the lye, and Sir Francis had sent Aboli into the forest to search for those special herbs that his tribe used to keep their huts clear of the loathsome vermin. Now a party of seamen waited on the foredeck, armed with buckets of the caustic substance.
"I want every crack and joint of the hull scrubbed out, but be careful," Sir Francis warned them. "The corrosive fluid will burn the skin from your hands-" He broke off abruptly. Every head on board turned towards the distant rocky heads, and every man upon the beach paused in what he was doing and cocked his head to listen.
The flat boom of a cannon shot echoed from the cliffs at the entrance to the lagoon and reverberated across the still waters of the wide bay.
"It's the alarm signal from the lookout on the heads, Captain," shouted Ned Tyler, and pointed across the water to where a puff of white gunsmoke still hung over one of the emplacements that guarded the entrance. As they stared, a tiny black ball soared to the top of the makeshift flag-pole on the crest of the western headland then unfurled into a red swallow-tail. It was the general alarm signal, and could only mean that a strange sail was in sight.
"Beat to quarters, Master Daniel!" Sir Francis ordered crisply. "Unlock the
weapons chests and arm the crew. I am going across to the entrance. Four men to row the longboat and the rest take up their battle stations ashore."
Although his face remained expressionless, inwardly he was furious that he should have allowed himself to be surprised like this, with the masts un stepped and all the cannon out of the hull. He turned to Ned Tyler. "I want the prisoners taken ashore and placed under your strictest guard, well away from the beach. If they learn that there is a strange ship off the coast, it might give them the notion to try to attract attention."
Oliver rushed up the companionway with Sir Francis's cloak over his arm. While he spread it over his master's shoulders, Sir Francis finished issuing his orders. Then he turned and strode to the entry port where the longboat lay alongside and Hal was waiting, where his father could not ignore him, fretting that he might not be ordered to join him.
"Very well, then," Sir Francis snapped. "Come with me. I might have need of those eyes of yours." And Hal slid down the mooring line ahead, and cast off the moment his father stepped into the boat.
"Pull till you burst your guts!" Sir Francis told the men at the oars and the boat skittered across the lagoon. Sir Francis sprang over the side and waded ashore below the cliff with the water slopping over the tops of his high boots. Hal had to run to catch up with him on the elephant path.
They came out on the top, three hundred feet above the lagoon, looking out over the ocean. Although the wind that buffeted them on the heights had kicked the sea into a welter of breaking waves, Hal's sharp eyes picked out the brighter flecks that persisted among the ephemeral whitecaps ever before the lookout could point them out to him.
Sir Francis stared through his telescope. "What do you make of her? "he demanded of Hal.
"There are two ships," Hal told him.
"I see but one no, wait! You are right. There is another, a little further to the east. Is she a frigate, do you think?" "Three masts," Hal shaded his eyes, "and full rigged. Yes, I'd say she's a frigate. The other vessel is too far off. I cannot tell her type." It pained Hal to admit it, and he strained his eyes for some other detail. "Both ships are standing in directly towards us."
"If they are intending to head for Good Hope, then they must go about very soon," Sir Francis murmured, never lowering the telescope. They watched anxiously.
"They could be a pair of Dutch East Indiamen still making their we stings Hal hazarded hopefully.
"Then why are they pushing so close into a lee shore?" Sir Francis asked. "No, it looks very much as though they are headed straight for the entrance." He snapped the telescope closed. "Come along!" At a trot he led the way back down the path to where the longboat waited on the beach. "Master Daniel, row across to the batteries on the far side. Take command there. Do not open fire until I do They watched the longboat move swiftly over the lagoon and Daniel's men drag it into a narrow cove where it was concealed from view. Then Sir Francis strode along the gun emplacements in the cliff and gave a curt set of orders to the men who crouched over the culver ins with the burning slow-match.
"At my command, fire on the leading ship. One salvo of round shot," he told them. "Aim at the waterline. Then load with chain shot and bring down their rigging. They'll not want to try manoeuvring in these confined channels with half their sails shot away." He jumped up onto the parapet of the emplacement and stared out at the sea through the narrow entrance, but the approaching vessels were still hidden from view by the rocky cliffs.
Suddenly, from around the western point of the heads, a ship with all sail set drew into view. She was less than two miles offshore, and even as they watched in consternation she altered course, and trimmed her yards around, heading directly for the entrance.
"Their guns are run out, so it's a fight they're looking for, said Sir Francis grimly, as he sprang down from the wall. "And we shall give it to them, lads."
"No, Father," Hal cried. "I know that ship."
"Who-" Before Sir Francis could ask the question, he was given the answer. From the vessel's maintop a long swallow-tailed banner unfurled. Scarlet and snowy white, it whipped and snapped on the wind.
"The croix paudeP Hal called. "It's the Gull of Moray. It's Lord Cumbrae, Father!"
"By God, so it is. How did that red-bearded butcher know we were here?"
Astern of the Gull of Moray the strange ship hove into view. It also trained its yards around, and in succession altered its heading, following the Buzzard as he stood in towards the entrance.
"I know that ship also," Hal shouted, on the wind. "There, now! I can even recognize her figurehead. She's the Goddess. I know of no other ship on this ocean with a naked Venus at her bowsprit."
"Captain Richard Lister, it is," Sir Francis agreed. "I feel easier for having him here. He's a good man though, God knows, I trust neither of them all the way."
As the Buzzard came sailing in down the channel past the gun emplacements, he must have picked out the bright spot of Sir Francis's cloak against the lichen covered rocks, for he dipped his standard in salute.
Sir Francis lifted his Hat in acknowledgement, but grated between his teeth, "I'd rather salute you with a bouquet of grape, you Scottish bastard. You've smelt the spoils, have you? You're come to beg or steal, is that it? But how did you know?"
"Father!" Hal shouted again. "Look there, in the futtock shrouds I'd know that grinning rogue anywhere. That's how they knew. He led them here."
Sir Francis swivelled his glass. "Sam Bowles. It seems that even the sharks could not stomach that piece of carrion. I should have let his shipmates deal with him while we had the chance."
The Gull moved slowly past them, reducing sail progressively, as she threaded her way deeper into the lagoon. The Goddess followed her, at a cautious distance. She also flew the croix pott6e at her masthead, along with the cross of St. George and the Union flag. Richard Lister was also a Knight of the Order. They picked out his diminutive figure on his quarterdeck as he came to the rail and shouted something across the water that was jumbled by the wind.
"You are keeping strange company, Richard." Even though the Welshman could not hear him, Sir Francis waved his Hat in reply. Lister had been with him when they captured the Heerlycke Nacht, they had shared the spoils amicably, and he counted him a friend. Lister should have been with them, Sir Francis and the Buzzard while they spent those dreary months on blockade off Cape Agulhas. However, he had missed the rendezvous in Port Louis on the island of Mauritius. After waiting a month for him to appear, Sir Francis had been obliged to accede to the Buzzard's demands, and they had sailed without him.
"Well, we'd best put on a brave face, and go to greet our uninvited guests," Sir Francis told Hal, and went down to the beach as Daniel brought the longboat across the channel between the heads.
As they rowed back up the lagoon the two newly arrived vessels lay at anchor in the main channel. The Gull of Moray was only half a cable's length astern of the Resolution. Sir Francis ordered Daniel to steer directly to the Goddess. Richard Lister was at the entry port to greet him as he and Hal came aboard.
"Flames of hell, Franky. I heard the word that you had taken a great prize from the Dutch. Now I see her lying there at anchor." Richard seized his hand. He did not quite stand as tall as Sir Francis's shoulder but his grip was powerful. He sniffed the air with the great florid bell of his nose, and went on, in his singing Celtic lilt, "And is that not spice I smell on the air? I curse me self for not having found you at Port Louis."
"Where were you, Richard? I waited thirty-two days for you to arrive."
"It grieves me to have to admit it but I ran full tilt into a hurricane just south of Mauritius. Dismasted me and blew me clear across to the coast of St. Lawrence Island."
"That would be the same storm that dismasted the Dutchman." Sir Francis pointed across the channel at the galleon. "She was under-jury-rig when we captured her. But how did you fall in with the Buzzard?"
"I thought that as soon as the Goddess was fit for sea again I would
look for you off Cape Agulhas, on the off chance that you were still on station there. That's when I came across him. He led me here."
"Well, it's good to see you, my old friend. But, tell me, do you have any news from home?" Sir Francis leaned forward eagerly. This was always one of the foremost questions men asked each other when they met out here beyond the Line. They might voyage to the furthest ends of the uncharted seas, but always their hearts yearned for home. Almost a year had passed since Sir Francis had received news from England.
At the question, Richard Lister's expression turned sombre. "Five days after I sailed from Port Louis I fell in with Windsong, one of His Majesty's frigates. She was fifty six days out from Plymouth, bound for the Coromandel coast."
"So what news did she have?" Sir Francis interrupted impatiently.
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