Voyage of the Istanbul Tigress Ch. 03

Hamilton laughed. "Being a slave of a Sultan sounds like an adventure, although I suspect most of your time will be spent in idle conversation with other women of the Harem."

"It is more! I have found that what I want! What I really want! Do you know what it is? What I want more than anything is to be taken, to be swept away and put in the power of some strong man."

"You want to be controlled," he said, pulling his hand away from her.

"Yes! I wish to be controlled! I want to be desired, I want to be admired, I want to be loved, but I want all of that wrapped around a feeling of being in total control of some brave and strong man."

Hamilton only nodded.

"Is that so wrong, Edward?"

"No."

"I'm sorry master, have I said something wrong?"

"No. You haven't. It's just... I've heard others talk like that."

"Oh? Who? The Countess of Salisbury? I have always heard stories of her, wild, wild stories!"

"Not her."

Katherine knelt down next him. "Forgive me for speaking out of my place, master."

"It was Nasira. Nasira said something like that to me in Tunis. She told me I had a 'desire to control.'"

"I can see that in you, master, just as I see the desire to be controlled in me. I hope to find that in the Harem. I hope you find what you wish too."

"I hope to find Nasira," said Hamilton, the words slipping out.

"It is all right, master. We all know this."

Hamilton frowned.

She stood up and kissed his head.

"I have to look at these charts," he said, after a moment. "Go back to the cot."

"Yes, master." Katherine took off the blanket and picked up her book. "And thank you, Edward. I mean, thank you, master. This is the first time you have spoken about her without getting angry."

Hamilton didn't look up. He keep staring at the chart, the marks blending into a meaningless series of lines and curves. And there, on that chart, was Istanbul. He could get there, but it was a huge city. He had no idea how he would find Nasira. And if he did, would she want him? Would she even want to see him? When they had parted neither expected to see the other ever again. She was a beautiful woman and she was also, technically a slave. Perhaps she had been already been taken by someone.

He glanced up quickly, making sure Katherine didn't notice the tear rolling down his eye. He wiped it, and went back to setting a proper course.

##

By the time they reached Paxos Hamilton had given up wearing his English naval uniform. Rachel Palmer had done her work well and removed the flourishes, but it seemed foolish to be the only one wearing heavy wool in the hot sun. He now wore a simple tunic and trousers with a heavy leather belt, not much different from the rest of the crew, but with the addition of his saber.

It was a crowded anchorage, but none seemed to pay much attention to the brig-sloop. All eyes were on a trio of Russian two-decker sail-of-the-line, each boasting 60 to 80 guns, although whether the Greeks were pleased or horrified by their presence was hard to tell.

"The Russians sent their Admiral Ushakov to pound the French," Ghanashyam said when he returned from shore. "The officers I talked to insisted that the French had one thousand guns on Corfu alone. I don't believe that, but it must have been a hellish fight."

"I'm sure it was."

"I also saw an English newspaper with an account of the Siege of Acre. It claims that the principle reason Bonaparte was unable to take the city was due to the intervention of Admiral Sydney Smith who, so it said, brought English sailors into the city to fight at the breeches. That may be exaggerated as well, but I am inclined to believe that the English did give direct assistance to the Ottoman defenders. There is no denying that the French have retreated back to Egypt."

Hamilton nodded, somewhat disappointed, he wasn't quite sure why at first. He looked at Ghanashyam and asked quietly, "Do you think this means our mission to deliver Lady Dunsbrooke is superfluous?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. Although the Sultan is expecting this gift, it would be a great insult to him if we turned back."

"Yes," said Hamilton. "That is good news the French have been turned back. At least we won't meet them in Istanbul."

Ghanashyam laughed and then discretely put his hand on Hamilton's arm. He lead him towards the taffrail and said in a very low voice, "I also met some Venetians. They told me that Mor Cuanaich had put a substantial price on your head."

"I shouldn't be surprised by that."

"There is more. He wants the Lady Dunsbrooke, but alive. They say he has vowed to use her as the figurehead for his war galley."

Hamilton nodded grimly, "Did you discover if Mor Cuanaich might be in these waters?"

"He has been on Corfu," said Ghanashyam, "and south at Zakynthos, but he had only brought his galleys ashore where he could find the protection of French guns. Otherwise he would never dare. He is hated among these people, because he has been taking Greeks from fishing boats to work his oars."

"That is useful to know. Thank you, Mr. Ganny." The Indian turned and went to his cabin as Ahmar approached the Captain. "Water is being sent," Ahmar said, "and Ghanashyam purchased food from the Russians, already salted and casked."

"Did you sell those five?"

Ahmar nodded. "Yes. Though the price was too small."

"It's better than throwing them overboard. In Tunis I never saw slaves fight like some of these women from Belvederi. The lash didn't dissuade them at all, but, no matter, those slaves can trouble their new owner."

Van Schoonhoven pulled himself over the rail at last. Breathing heavily he walked slowly to the quarter deck.

"Mr. Van Schoonhoven, did you find a pilot?" Hamilton asked.

"Yes, he is coming. Soon. And we should leave, Captain, as quickly... as quickly as possible."

"Yes, we've been discussing that."

"These people, Captain Hamilton," Van Schoonhoven continued. "Many greeted the French when they came, thinking they were freed from Venice, yes? Then some grew unhappy with French demands, and others are now unhappy with Russians so close. But all of them, oh yes, to a man, woman and child, they despise the Turk."

"We will leave as soon as the pilot comes aboard."

Hamilton called Zuberi to join himself, Ahmar and Van Schoonhoven by the binnacle. "Let me show you my concern." Hamilton took out a small sketch and spread it out for the others to see. "Here, when we are rounding the Peloponnese, that, I believe that is where one of his galliots will find us."

"Perhaps farther north?" Ahmar asked.

"I don't think so. It would have taken him days to recover from the loss of his haven in Straca Marina and from there he will only be able to guess at our next move, whether along the Greek coast, or south to Crete. He will have spread out his fleet, some sent to these islands, but others sent towards Crete, and maybe some into the Aegean. I don't believe he would risk sending any towards Corfu, not with the Russian squadron still here."

"Captain Hamilton," said Ahmar definitively, "if we see his galleys we will give battle and him."

"I'd rather avoid them than fight, it only takes one lucky shot to snap a mainbrace. Now, if we encounter a single war galley, perhaps with one or two smaller galliots, then as long as the winds do not slacken they can be evaded."

The other nodded. Hamilton stood for a moment as the others went to check on the provisioning of the ship. Standing on the quarterdeck, his hands clasped behind his back in the manner of a proper English Captain, he thought of the other pleasures on the ship. And since there was time, he went down towards his cabin. "Let me know when the pilot arrives," he said, though he instantly regretted it. Of course they would.

Rachel sat on the cot in the fore-cabin, dressed in a simple slave wrap. She was hard at work sewing one of the men's clothes. She looked up at and said, "Hello, master."

"Rachel." He looked at her, she was a delicious morsel. "Where is Katherine?"

"She is down below, sir, I mean master, with the doctor, they are tending to Kalila, she fell, or so they say, in her cage and bent back a finger on her left hand, pulled it back hard. Shall I fetch her master?"

"No." All her wanted was a brief diversion, somehow Rachel didn't seem suited for that. "Go find that French slave, Luloah."

"Yes, master."

He waited in his cabin for only a minute before there was a quiet knock and Luloah entered. She had pale skin, only lightly tanned, and short dark hair, he vaguely recalled some incident where it had been cut by another woman, but it seemed to suit her.

"I am here to serve, master," Luloah said, with her pretty French accent.

"Yes, you are. Strip."

Luloah was only wearing a slave wrap around her hips. She removed that and stood before him, her hands at her sides, and head tilted downwards.

Hamilton stood next to her and ran his hand down her body, over her breasts and stomach, until he was pressing against her mound. "I wonder why I haven't fucked you more often."

"I... I do not know, master."

"Put your hands behind your head." She obeyed, locking her fingers together.

"Your slave name, Luloah, means the Pearl, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, master."

He stood behind her and felt along the curve of her ass. The slave maintained her position, but he could see she was terrified. He liked that reaction. He had no illusions about what he was doing, it was wrong, exceedingly wrong. But he didn't care. Or rather he cared more for the erotic pleasure it gave him to control this beautiful young woman.

"Tell me, Luloah, what was your name before you were taken?" As he spoke he walked over to his sea chest and reached in.

"I am Evelyn D'arcelle, master."

Hamilton pulled out a rattan cane, one he had taken from a vicious bosun's mate a few years earlier. It was a pity, he thought, that he hadn't brought it to Tunis.

Luloah looked back, quickly, to see what he was doing.

"You were Evelyn D'arcelle, now you are Luloah the Sex Slave. Though, Evelyn is a pretty name."

"Yes, master." Her voice was trembling as she heard the cane swishing through the air.

Hamilton stepped to the side and snapped the cane, hard, on the slave's ass. She cried out and fell forward, pulling her hands forward keep from losing her balance. Then she forced herself back into position.

He smacked her ass with the cane again, and then a second time, without pause, and then once more.

"Ah! Please, master," she said. "Please, I am being good, master."

"Oh? Do you think this is punishment, slave, is that it? Well, not to worry. I am not punishing you." He emphasized his comment with another snap of the cane.

"Ah, yes, yes, master. Please!" Luloah's knees were trembling.

"I am simply playing. You are a diversion slave, a toy, something amusing to pass the time."

"Yes, master... oh!"

He took the cane and pressed it between her legs, pushing up on her slit. She looked nearly ready to faint. Hamilton pulled the cane away and placed it back in the sea chest. He sat back on his cot. "Over here, slave, kneel before me."

"Yes, master." She slid to her hands and knees and crawled to the cot.

"I want you to serve me, slave."

"Yes, master." Luloah reached up and began to unbutton his breeches. His cock was hard as she took hold of it. She leaned closer, opening her mouth.

"Just your hand for now."

"Yes, master."

"I like this. I should do this more often."

She nodded, not even pretending to force a smile.

"Tell me, now, what did Evelyn D'arcelle do? Where did she live?"

She stroked his cock, squeezing slightly now and then. "I... I lived in Archachon, master. My father and brothers worked at the shipyard."

"Really? Were you in one of the ships they helped build when you were taken by the Corsairs."

She nodded.

Hamilton shifted around, putting the slave between his legs. "Press my cock between your breasts."

She moved closer, leaning in so that his hard shaft was against her chest. Luloah pressed her hands on either side and his cock was enclosed in the soft embrace of her breasts. He put one hand on her head and ran his hands through her hair, as his hips slide his cock up and down. Looking at her, watching the pretty young woman, torn from her home and forced to serve, in every way, the whims of men who owned her, the pleasure began to build.

Luloah looked up at him, she tried to smile, clearly hoping that she was pleasing him. Hoping to avoid more strokes of the cane. She was. His cock burst and cum was soon dripping between her breasts.

There was a cry from on deck and he could hear Zuberi yell out, "That is the Greek pilot, let him come aboard."

Hamilton had Luloah find a small cloth. She dipped it in a bowl and cleaned the stickiness from his cock.

"You may clean yourself, slave, and then return back to the cages."

"Yes, master."

Hamilton was back on deck as the pilot, a somewhat sour looking Greek fisherman, came up on deck. "Well gentleman, we sail with the tide."

##

Hamilton had expected the galleys of Mor Cuanaich to find them somewhere along the southern peninsulas of Greece. He was wrong.

The pilot, a moody man named Georgios Demetropoulos, had insisted that there were favorable currents in the Strait of Ithaca, a two mile wide channel between the islands of Ithaca and Kefalonia. Ahmar was skeptical, but with some hesitation Hamilton decided to accept the pilot's advice. If nothing else, the view was magnificent with the steep slopes of the islands rising from the rich blue waters on either side of the Tigress. Katherine was on deck with Hamilton's naval jacket around her shoulders, discussing Homer, in Greek, with Zuberi.

Ahmar, who had gone to the fo'c'sle with the best telescope, suddenly swore. The cry of, "Sail ho!" came from aloft as Ahmar rushed to the quarterdeck and handed Hamilton the telescope. To starboard, a barca-longa, a type of two masted coastal lugger not uncommon around the islands of Greece, was slipping out from one of the many sheltered beaches along the Kefalonian coast.

"She's in the broad reaches," Ahmar said calmly, "trying to come abaft our beam."

Hamilton took the telescope and climbed to the maintop. He looked more carefully at the approaching vessel. A mass of men armed with boarding pikes and muskets were crouching in her waist hiding, though not very well. This was obviously no simple trading vessel. He climbed down the shrouds and informed Ahmar.

"They know our cages filled with slaves," the Yemeni said. "They would not wish to fire on us."

"I hope you're right, Mr. Ahmar, so let's outrun them." He looked around at the crew, many of whom were instinctively aware of something afoot. "Put us under all plain sail," Hamilton ordered. "Katherine, get below. Find Rachel, Rana and Basmah and go down to the cable tier. No! Don't argue, go!"

"Sail ho!"cried Almas from the mizzen crosstrees.

"Where away?" Hamilton yelled back.

But before the young woman could answer he saw for himself. A galley and a smaller galliot were emerging from a headland two miles to the south, their sides glistening white as the oars churned the water. In the narrow channel, with galleys in front of them and the barca-longa aft, the Tigress was trapped.

"Damn," Hamilton muttered. Then he turned and yelled, "Beat to quarters! Clear for action! Mr. Ahmar, if you would be so good as to take charge of the guns."

Ahmar nodded and dove down into the ship. The crew of the Tigress knew their jobs. Along the gun deck the bulkheads were struck, open casks of water distributed for rammers and against fires, and sand spread on decks; the familiar ritual of warships around the world. Ahmar kept at the gun crews, working them at a furious pace. He personally pulled the tompions from a half dozen muzzles as charges and shot were laid about. Gun crews took their stations and loaded their weapons.

"Ah, Captain Hamilton," Van Schoonhoven said excitedly as he burst up from below. "This is most unfortunate! Trapped, yes? Oh, dear sir, we are trapped!"

Hamilton ignored the Dutchman. He drew his saber and laid the point at the pilot's throat. "Mr. Zuberi, kindly ask our pilot if there are other of Mor Cuanaich's vessels in these waters."

"He says he is sorry. He had no choice." Zuberi shook his head as he listened. "Now he is saying something about his family being held hostage, but I can't understand him well."

"His family can go to the devil. I care about my ship. Now ask again: are there other galleys?"

"He claims not to know, Captain."

"Then tell Mr. Demetropoulos to jump. If he hesitates shoot him." Hamilton sheathed his sword and looked back at the barca-longa with the telescope. He barely noticed the splash behind him.

"Captain, if I may," Zuberi said. "We can run past those galleys, if need be, a single broadside will discourage them."

"Perhaps. But this ambush that seems too well planned. They may have other galleys or masked batteries to the south." Hamilton snapped the telescope shut. "No, we're going come about."

"I hope you are right, Captain."

"So do I, Mr. Zuberi." Hamilton then turned and shouted out to the crew, "All hands! We're going on the other tack. Prepare to brace about! Mr. Zuberi, if you will assist in directing the men. I'll take the wheel myself."

"Yes, Captain!" the Egyptian ordered the crews into their proper divisions.

"Hard over!" Hamilton cried as he pushed over the wheel. "Slack the windward braces! Now take up the lee braces! Haul hard! Haul hard and make all!"

The Tigress turned in the narrow channel, heeling over as she across the waves in the channel. She shifted around on a shallow curve as the bow moving across the wind. The brig settled in a new course towards the north end of the Strait, or rather as northerly as possible. The wind was against them and even while ship close-hauled the bow was pointed at Ithaca. Any other time, that was no cause for concern, they could take their time and beat back up the channel by tacking back and forth. Hamilton looked off the larboard bow, the barca-longa was closing rapidly, he didn't have that time.

Hamilton gave the wheel back to the quartermaster and scanned the enemy. The deck of the barca-longa was swarming with armed men, all of them wanting to gain the prizes down below. The barca-longa was going to attempt to take him by boarding, and he worried they might even ram if necessary. Yet even if he could fight off those boarders, which was unlikely, the galleys would close on the entangled vessels and all would be lost.

At three hundred yards there was the sharp crack of musket fire. That gave Hamilton some confidence, the range was much too great for muskets and only inexperienced men would fire so soon.

"Half a point starboard!" Hamilton cried. He paused, waiting. "Run out the guns!"

"We have some ruse, Captain Hamilton, yes?" Van Schoonhoven asked.

"Ruse? No, we're going to shoot them and kill them," Hamilton turned and yelled to Zuberi "Pass the word to fire as we bear! Quartermaster, another half a point to starboard!"

The Tigress slowly turned and then eight guns belched fire, smoke and iron. The cloud of acrid smoke the engulfed them was quickly carried by the wind. On the enemy ship, the foresails were torn and men were crying out on the crowded decks.

"Reload! Double shot with canister!" The guns were loaded with a cylindrical case filled with musket balls on top of another 18-pound iron shot. When fired the thin metal case broke apart and the lead balls would spread out like a shotgun blast.

There was a flash and puff from the bow of the Corsair vessel as a pair of small chasers were fired. Both shots passed close over the Tigress's waist. A man standing next to Van Schoonhoven dropped to the deck in a smear of bright blood. More muskets were firing, and bullets scoured groves along the rails and deck. One twanged off a stern chaser three feet from Hamilton. Two men dropped on deck, clutching limbs, while a third fell from the shrouds into the water. Hamilton glanced up and saw the twins with their muskets, both firing away at the packed men on the enemy ship.