Lady of Flanders: Pirates and Mates

Lady of Flanders

The sea was stirring from a brisk following wind, waves golden in the afternoon sun. It resembled a field of rippling wheat to her land-raised eye.

The Silver Hind responded slowly to the helm on the current course. Aleid watched the first mate capably handling the ship, his strong hands on the wheel, his strong back flexed under the waistcoat he wore. He watched the waves and wind with a practiced eye. Seeing her watching him, he smiled but returned attention to the task.

Not that there was much to do. Their course had been constant for days. They'd spot the coast of South America in another three days if the wind stayed fresh.

The Hind was about the smallest seagoing vessel still afloat. Aleid had bought it from the breakers yard when decommissioned by the Admiralty. Even at just 50 feet it had taken most of her inheiritance, leaving the house and a little farmland to call home.

A 6th-rate ship for decades before they were retired by the Admiralty, the bark still had space below-decks for considerable cargo once the guns had been removed.

Aleid intended to trade that cargo, mostly stylish Dutch woolens, for exotic American spices and furs from South American ports. The wealthy American ladies were notorious for their appetite for European goods. Her investment would be returned ten-fold once back in Flanders. That is, if they survived the weather and troubled waters along the coast.

Pirates were far from her mind as they approached her first landfall since they'd set sail in March. Negotiating Spanish ports and Spanish egos was going to take all her skill and effort in the coming weeks. Anyway, of the guns only a brass 3-pounder remained at the stern, to deter casual pirates. And only enough powder and ball for half a dozen shots, if it came to that.

Her lover Sorgen had assured her that pirates operated only in the fall, when the winds were favorable offshore. He'd been raised in a sailing family.

During her father's sickness and subsequent death Sorgen had been a pillar of support, encouraging her to take control of father's business interests and stretch her skills. He was why she was here today, master of her own ship and sailing for fortune!

He was also a tremendous lover, adventurous and exciting. She'd never heard of most of the things he'd shared with her, from playing at master and slave, to oral stimulation and even including a servant girl in their play. She shivered even in the heat, excited at the memory of his touch.

She raised her gaze for the 100th time that day. The sun burned down from a blue-white sky, scorching the deck, reflecting heat from the water and threatening her pale translucent skin with sunburn. She'd grown up under calm cool skies of the Netherlands, with no tolerance for this heat and humidity.

The men of the ship, the handful she could afford that managed the bark, wore only breeches. Their shirtless backs were brown from the sun. Most were foreigners to her, from climates such as the one they approached. They'd been hired right off the docks, without recommendations. She'd taken on any that would serve under a woman, regardless of appearance or education.

So far it had gone very well, with little dispute among them. They worked capably for long shifts, were paid a fair rate and been promised a share of the profits should the voyage fare well. That was enough to convince them to sign on.

Their muscled torsos, browned shoulders, and thighs stout and hard were all the recommendation she had to work with.

She wore little more than they, not what she'd have worn in Flanders. No petticoats, no stockings, not even an undershirt. That'd all gone as they approached the tropics.

Just a dress laced across the front, giving her modest breast room to sweat and breathe. Most of her chest was visible through the lacing, with a strap of cloth up over each shoulder. Her light chest was a stark contrast with her dark brown nipples. They were prominent through the laces allowing the sultry breezes to play across her body. Her collar she wore loose, dress straps letting her shoulders feel the sea wind.

Dark leather boots hugged her calves, extending up to her thigh - straps at ankle and knee, flared at the top with laces across the back. Her legs were otherwise bare under a knee-length skirt. Her feet were tiny as befitting a woman of quality and breeding. A captain's bonnet perched back on her head as a sign of authority, light brown hair free to the breeze.

A sword she wore sheathed at her hip upon the advice of her first mate, the only other person aboard she could converse with in her native tongue. It was a rapier really with crossed guard, small basket, fleur-de-lis pommel, wire-wrapped grip. Meant for show or personal defense it served also as a badge of office. The knives and weapons worn by the crew were all undecorated and smaller.

Breezy clothes and leather boots left her constantly aware of the wind and sun. Sweat trickled down her back, between her breasts, across her stomach and dripped on down her thighs. The boot leather evaporated sweat, leaving her legs cooler than she'd anticipated.

The boots were her favorite, masterworks of Flemish leatherwork, embossed across the toe and up the side with flourishes and trimmed with leather tassels. She was unreasonably proud of them.

Her typical Flemish dress was stitched rounds both hips, seams plunging in a V across her belly but stopping short of the gap between her legs. A skirt went from there to mid-thigh.

She was essentially bare underneath from belly button to knee. This came in handy when she consulted with her first mate in her cabin. Bent over maps and bills of lading on the chart table, he could access everything he needed to advise her completely.

Thinking of the mate, she found missed her Flemish lover Sorgen. The bronzed bodies surrounding her made it hard to bear the loneliness. Sorgen had advised her to experiment on the voyage, part of the role-playing he so enjoyed. He said imagining her with other men would occupy his every waking thought and make the time bearable until her return.

But so far she'd only been able to entertain the first mate. He was educated and sensitive. The men of the ship were too brutish, coarse and unlettered to interest her other than in imagination. Maybe she'd resort to a liaison with one on the return trip. That was a minefield she'd decided to put off in the interest of a tight ship. Jealousy among the crew could be more dangerous than bad weather or pirates!

She considered retiring to her quarters, raising her skirts and interfering with herself to relieve the tension. She'd alternated between that and consulting with the mate regularly during the voyage. Hardly a day passed without her wetting the cabin floor.

The bosun who cleaned her cabin daily, often made comments to the mate as he brought the bucket and mop. They'd both laugh, but so far the mate had been evasive about why. She could easily guess - men so often thought it amusing that a woman should have needs.

Making her decision, she called to the mate. "I need your help on these bills. We'll soon be in port, and we've not built a schedule for each port of call."

The mate smiled, called the bosun to take the wheel and followed her to the cabin. Sparely furnished, there was just room for two around the chart table.

"Which port do you wish to begin with?" he asked innocently.

"This one right here!". Aleid grinned, raised her skirt and scooted her butt onto the chart table, her legs spread lewdly. She pointed at her pussy. Her brown fuzz was thick, with her cunt lips peeking out pinkly. They gaped slightly, with her shiny vulva just inside inviting further attention.

"Yes Captain!"

He untied his breeches, let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them. His cock ready and at attention, he stroked it briefly and then stepped into her embrace. Reaching between with one hand, prising her cunt lips open with two fingers he stroked the length of his cock across her wet vulva. She felt a thrill as his shaft slid and slipped on her tender wet skin. Once he was slick enough he positioned himself carefully, and then slipped neatly inside her with a single smooth thrust.

She gasped at the sudden intrusion, but recovered quickly. She wrapped her legs around him, holding his sturdy shoulders with her hands and leaning back into his stroke. After a thrust or two, she released his shoulders, began fooling with the buttons on his waistcoat. It took only a moment to have it gaping, and she pushed her hands inside to stroke his chest.

Nearly hairless, the smooth expanse of skin always excited her. He smiled and began pausing between strokes, measuring her response, calculating what would stimulate her most fully. He timed his efforts to match her gasps, rapidly bringing her to a climax. Feeling her vagina clenching his member, he thrust into her completely, holding himself deep within as she came.

Her legs clenched, her boot heels digging into his buttocks, her arms pulling him down so his cock filled her completely. She craned her neck to kiss him, and thrust her tongue into his ready mouth as she spasmed. He tolerated her attention, but from his rigidity she could tell he was struggling to keep from cumming himself.

As she came down from her orgasm she extracted her tongue from his mouth, relaxed her legs and pushed him off with one foot.

"One day I'll get you to cum inside me!" she announced matter-of-factly.

"No Ma'am! That would not be appropriate, to fertilize the Captain while on duty!" He smiled, but she sensed real reluctance behind his jibe. He was a career man, and intended to command his own vessel some day. That would be derailed by unplanned babies, especially with a superior officer.

Hopping down from the table, she snagged his pantaloons from the floor, folded them and laid them at her feet. Dropping to her knees, she took his member expertly in both hands, began to massage.

It was slick from her excitement, and dripping a little clear liquid. Leaning in she lapped a drop off the tip, smiled up at him then plunged her head over it, slurping and sucking. She alternated full-length stroking with one hand from the root to tip, with swirls of her tongue on the tip.

Every two or three repetitions she slipped it entirely in her mouth, sucking noisily, bobbing as far as she could with almost his entire cock in her mouth. Her tongue was slightly out, sliding on the wet underside of his shaft, keeping him moist.

His breathing changed to shallow rapid gasps. He put one hand on the back of her head, realized his impertinence and took it away. She paused, looked him in the eye, grinned around his fat member. Did he really think it inappropriate to touch the Captain, while she had his dick in her mouth?

It took only a few moments and she felt his member pulse. Quickly she clamped her lips around the bulb, began little sucks and strokes of her tongue on the tender underside of the tip. A few strokes of his shaft using both hands resulted in a gush! onto her tongue.

Sucking until he quit pulsing she then pulled her mouth off with lips carefully sealed, getting all the rich mess neatly inside. She opened her mouth and tipped her head up, looking him directly in the eyes so he could see his own cum, rolled it around on her tongue, then deliberately swallowed the whole wad. Smacking her lips, she enjoyed the shocked look that always produced on the poor Mate's face.

"Nothing to say to me, officer? You don't like my treatment of a senior officer? Want to file a written complaint?"

"No complaints, Ma'am! I couldn't be better treated in any port in the world." He said it matter-of-factly and politely, like he hadn't just called her a whore.

She was pleased. "At ease, sailor. Return to your post."

While he collected his pantaloons and retied himself, having some trouble managing his still-stiff cock, she rose and sat on the edge of the chart table letting her cunt drip onto the floor, legs spread, displaying her sex and grinning. Once he was fairly decent she stood, pulled her skirt back into place and followed him out and to the helm. Still wet, drips of pussy juices ran tracks down the inside of her thighs.

He was handsome and had a fine cock. He came nearly on command, like a good officer should. But really she wanted more from a man. Someone with some passion, not always in control, someone impulsive and risk taking. Someone who wanted to cum in her in his most passionate moment. Or at least she thought she did.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the bosun's approach. He saluted and waited to get the mate's attention. She was conversant in several languages, but it was considered correct for crewmen to communicate through the first mate. She cleared her throat and the mate looked up, noticed the waiting man.

"Que passa?"

The man blurted a string of Portuguese, among which she understood "navio" (ship) and "segue" (follows). Taking the glass from the alcove beside the wheel, she turned and trained it to the stern. Indeed, there was just visible near the horizon, a mast. The flag on the mast was indistinguishable from this distance.

The mate waited for her attention, then translated. "The man in the rigging has spotted a ship astern. He's concerned it may be a pirate."

"I thought that unlikely in this season?" She spoke authoritatively.

"You are most likely correct. But a merchant ship would sail no faster than the Hind. This ship is gaining, which means it's of a design for speed. It could be a packet boat, this close to the continent. It could be an Admiralty ship but it's likely too small. That leaves..."

"Leaves what?" she asked, an edge to her voice.

"A ship deployed to intercept. Depending upon the registry, it could be friend or foe."

"When will we know the registry? I cannot scry it from here." She offered the glass to the mate, who took it absently.

"The man in the rigging will know that first. I'll inform you the moment he has seen it."

She nodded. "Any recommendation of course change at this point?"

He considered. "We're running with the wind. We cannot go faster than the wind on this course. If we were to change course across the wind, we could increase speed. But so could the pursuer, if that's what they are.

"If they have a superior ship, and that is very likely" he continued, "no offense given to the Hind of course!"

She nodded impatiently. "Go on..."

"Then they could close the distance faster."

She decided. "Change course one point to the south. If they simply have the same destination, they will continue on their current course."

The mate nodded. "If they have any other intent, they would change course to intercept. "

He barked orders to the bosun, who relayed. Men launched themselves into the rigging, adjusting sheets and turning sails for the new course. The mate adjusted the wheel to match, the sails flapped and caught the new wind, and soon they could feel a fresh breeze off to starboard. With the ship running slightly across the wind it soon picked up speed.

The familiar sounds of the ship changed from what they'd gotten used to over the previous weeks. The wave curling from the bow made a larger sound, and the ship began to gently rock as it cut across the ever-present ocean swells at a different angle.

"How soon will we know?" she asked.

"It will take an hour or more at this distance. They have to detect our course change, then perhaps make their own change. Then we have to wait for it to make a measurable difference."

She was optimistic. They'd sailed alone for weeks out on the open sea. This close to their destination, it was expected to encounter other ships. Through this abundance of caution they'd only have to choose a different Brazilian harbor to trade, further down the coast. Their cargo was not extremely large; any middle-sized city would do to exhaust their trading potential.

It was exciting to have a change of routine. She could see the entire crew was interested. Those off duty came up from below, talking with their mates and peering over the bow. The bosun occasionally barked at crewmen lax at their station, keeping the sails trimmed for every knot of speed possible. The first mate took precise care to trim the wheel, listening and watching with rapt attention.

It took only half an hour for the man in the rigging to shout down at the bosun. He came at once to the mate. They said only a few words.

The mate looked agitated. "It's a Flemish flag..."

She was relieved, as they were of Flemish registry as well, but noticed his hesitation. "What is the concern?"

"It's not the Naval Ensign. Which reduces our possibilities to..."

"Packet, or pirate. Which, do you think?"

The mate shook his head. "I will not speculate. I will say this: if it should get sticky, you must not admit you command this ship. A pirate may let a woman live; but officers are always executed."

She blanched. The situation had changed too rapidly for her. This was supposed to be a great adventure! But now, lives were at stake. Hers; the mate's; perhaps the men as well.

"What of a course change?"

"No sign yet. That may bode well. Let us pray."

The next few minutes were tense. The men were strangely silent, all faces to the stern even though they could see little without a glass. All too soon, the man in the rigging called to the bosun.

He approached the mate, and without waiting to be recognized he blurted a few words of Portuguese.

The mate translated. "They have adjusted course to match our own."

She blanched. "We have but one hope: that we can outrun them."

The mate shook his head. "Already they close the gap."

"We can but try!"

The mate issued orders, and soon the Hind was trimmed to proceed directly away from the pursuer. This brought them nearly back to running with the wind. Even so, the pursuer continued to gain.

Soon everyone on board could see the ship without a glass. It seemed to loom behind them, clearly of a design for speed. It's smaller size, raked masts and slim hull looked predatory. The crew began muttering among themselves.

She asked the mate "What of the crew?"

He responded "I'm sure they will do little to resist. The pirate has superior speed, and likely superior armament. The crewmen hold little risk; they can surrender and likely join the pirate as crew. They are unlikely to give their lives for us."

It was as she feared. With a new crew of no loyalty, given no real choice, they would capitulate. The small brass cannon seemed pointless now.

"Come to my cabin." She turned without waiting for the mate to follow. He turned the wheel over to the bosun, examined the sky briefly, seeming to appreciate it for the first time. Then he threaded his way to her cabin door.

"Come in" she called at his knock. The door opened, and he ducked through the narrow opening.

Her cabin was spare, just a bunk against the forward wall, the chart table, a chair. A small cabinet held what little personal items she possessed. The mate bunked below on the gun deck with a few of the senior men. The rest had hammocks in the hold.

He began without being asked. "Ma'am, you must clear this cabin completely. It's the Captain's, and you must not appear to be Captain. All your possessions must be thrown overboard; your clothing can be brought to the gun deck, as if you've been there the whole voyage."

"What of you?" she was genuinely concerned.

"I'll do what I can to confuse them. A story about the Captain dying on the voyage perhaps. They may consider us too small to risk murder."

She shuddered at the mention of it. "I'm sorry..." was all she could manage.

He gave a grim smile. "Nothing to be done for it! We'll soldier on, accepting our fate as God determines it."