Sail Ho

"I can fry the salt pork if you brought a pan, and the biscuits will do for dumplings if we soak them in the drippings. I shall save the onions and potatoes for an evening meal when we are more settled."

The breakfast was filling if not particularly excellent in taste, though Mr. Wainwright praised Madeline's fare.

"Would that the cook on the Rislane had cooked up such a meal from so little. He would have boiled the salt pork until the flavor was all in the broth he threw over the side, and the biscuits would have been served cold."

Madeline blushed, but replied if Mr. Wainwright would find her some fresh meat and a few other vegetables she would fix him a feast he'd remember. She'd just finished speaking when they heard the sound of guns firing in the distance.

"Those are the Rislane's guns. She must be under attack", said Mr. Wainwright.

"Will they win?" asked Marie.

"I do not know. The crew is well trained, but they are not the Royal Navy."

"How will we know?"

"If the Rislane is victorious, Captain Knowles will sail back and send a boat to bring us back aboard."

"And if they are defeated?"

Mr. Wainwright frowned.

"It will be up to me to protect you both and to return you to civilization. Protecting you both must be my first task, regardless of the outcome of the battle. We must build a shelter from the heat of the day and the rains that come often. Let us begin our search now by following the river. We shall need fresh water and a level area somewhat higher than the river."

The three walked into the jungle a few minutes later. Mr. Wainwright carried a musket over his shoulder along with pouches of powder and ball, and held an axe from the carpenter's chest in his hand. Every few steps, he used the axe to slash the bark from a tree at about head height. The resulting white or yellow blaze contrasted with the dark brown of the bark and would lead them back to the jollyboat and all they possessed.

Madeline carried the second musket, loaded and primed, and a second supply of powder and balls. Marie carried a sack of hard biscuits as suggested by Mr. Wainwright. He said they would possibly spend the day in search of a proper site and would need provisions for their noon meal.

The sun was high in the sky when they found the small clearing caused by the toppling of a tall tree. The tree still lay in the center, but its fall had opened the canopy and allowed in the rays of the sun. A little over twenty feet away, the river flowed from a rocky outcrop to fall about ten feet into a pool with a bottom of the same stone. The river then flowed past the clearing over that stone bed and plunged over another ledge of rocks into the riverbed proper. Mr. Wainwright waded into the crystal clear pool and found it to be only as deep as his waist. He dipped in his hand, tasted the water, and then returned to the women smiling.

"This is the place we seek. The water is clear and pure, we are high enough the high tide will not flood our shelter, and we have the sunlight to purify the air and soil. We should return to the jollyboat and begin carrying our things here. I will stretch one of the tarpaulins I brought over the branches of the fallen tree as a shelter for the night. The second will become our mattress. Tomorrow, we will begin building a more permanent abode."

As the sun crept toward the westerly horizon, the last of their provisions and equipment were arranged in the clearing. The casks of pork and biscuits were placed under the large tarpaulin that formed a tent without sides, muskets, power and ball under the same shelter, and tools, ropes, and a few blocks from the ship's replacement stores on top of the fallen tree. Dinner was cold salt pork and a biscuit washed down with water from one of their casks. They were all too exhausted to attempt anything more elaborate.

After dinner, Mr. Wainwright said he would stand watch through the night again. Madeline's answer was calm, but firm.

"Mr. Wainwright, you have been awake for nearly two days, and you must rest if you are to be of any use at all. My husband, God rest his soul, taught me to load and fire a musket years ago. I will stand guard half the night while you sleep. I will wake you then and take my slumber while you protect us."

Mr. Wainwright protested, but Madeline would not hear of it. He finally lay down on one side of the tarpaulin and was quickly asleep. Madeline sat just outside with the musket cradled in her arms. Marie attempted to stay awake, but soon lay down and her breathing became the slow, deep breaths of slumber.

Madeline smiled at the sleeping girl. Up until yesterday, the girl knew nothing of life save fine meals served by servants, carriage rides, and a clean, soft bed. Today, she had carried her share from the boat though some of the parcels were heavy enough to cause a man to complain. Now, she slept on canvas after making a meal of salt pork more fat than meat and biscuits hard enough to crack teeth.

Even though taxed beyond what she had ever experienced, she did not complain, but smiled. She has the mettle of her father in her, that is for certain, thought Madeline, but also the gentle mind of her mother to accept what life has to offer. Would that Eleanor were alive to see how the infant she left behind has become such a beautiful woman. She would be very proud, as proud of Marie as I am.

Madeline was proud of the girl. Marie was the daughter Madeline could not have. As an orphaned girl no older than Marie was now, she had become a consort to the sailors whose ships berthed in Port Royal. Then she had met Jack, an overseer of Mr. Bonner's plantation and once they married, thought her past was behind her. She looked forward to suckling babies at her breasts, but such was not to be. Though her husband had planted his seed many times, her flower did not bloom. She secretly believed her barren womb to be divine punishment for her misspent youth and accepted that punishment as just.

When Eleanor Bonner succumbed to a bout of malaria, Mr. Bonner asked Madeline to care for the infant Marie. Madeline felt as if she had been given an opportunity to atone for those past misdeeds and had readily accepted. A year later, she loved Marie as a mother loves her own child. When her husband died of cholera, Marie became all of Madeline's life.

The new moon was overhead when she gently shook Mr. Wainwright.

"Mr. Wainwright, it is your turn at watch."

He took the musket from her and walked from under the tarpaulin. Madeline lay down beside Marie and was soon asleep.

The next morning as they dined on more fried salt pork, Marie asked the question that had occupied all their minds until they fell asleep the night before- what had happened to the Rislane. Was she still in the capable hands of Captain Knowles or was she at that moment being looted or perhaps being sailed to one of the remaining heathen ports? Mr. Wainwright resolved to determine the answer

"The chart Captain Knowles gave me indicated a rise in the land not far from where I believe we are at this moment. We will make a trail to that high area. Perhaps we can see the sea and result of the battle."

For three hours, Mr. Wainwright blazed a trail through the dense forest with his axe, and for three hours the walking became ever more difficult because of the increasing slope of the land. At last, they reached a rocky outcrop devoid of anything except large heaps of bird droppings. Mr. Wainwright climbed to the top of the bare rock and looked to the southwest through the telescope he had brought with him from the Rislane. When he returned, he was frowning.

"The schooner is tied up beside the Rislane and both carry only headsails to maintain steerage. It appears as if the Rislane's rudder has been damaged. With no rudder, she would have been an easy target for the schooner. Once she was out of control, the schooner could have approached her stern and boarded her there for she has no guns aft. I saw men on both ships, about forty I think, and none wore the seaman's clothing of the Rislane's crew. With her guns useless and her crew outnumbered, they could not have won.

"There are men working to repair the rudder, and other men carrying barrels from her hold and transferring them to the schooner, most likely the barrels of molasses. They will sell it to make the rum they seem to enjoy to excess. It would appear the Rislane has been lost and along with her, our hopes for a quick rescue."

Madeline felt tears come to her eyes, but she forced them back.

"What shall we do now?"

Mr. Wainwright squared his shoulders.

"We shall do as Captain Knowles ordered -- build a shelter and then decide to wait or risk making Port Royal in the jollyboat."

In the manner of the native huts Mr. Wainwright had seen in the villages outside the cities where the Rislane unloaded and loaded cargo, he began building a house of sorts. Four stout poles of six inches breadth and twelve feet in length were hewn from felled palm trees and were sunk into holes dug in the soft earth with the aid of the small shovel the cook on the Rislane had used to clean his stove. Other trunks of the same dimension were notched into these corner posts and lashed there with supple vines Madeline and Marie collected from the surrounding forest. Small saplings were laid side-by-side over these horizontal members and lashed in place with more vines to form a rough, but sturdy floor.

The roof was constructed in a similar manner except the horizontal members were offset front to back, and the saplings lashed to them formed a sloping, rather than flat surface. Palm trees, felled for their trunks, also furnished their fronds as thatch. The corner poles were likewise crossed by widely spaced saplings and covered with more palm fronds to make walls, with other vertical saplings used to form a doorway in one side.

Though the hut was small, only about twelve feet on each side, Mr. Wainwright laid up a wall in the center with one doorway. He explained he did so as it would not be proper for a man and two women to share the same sleeping quarters. At the end of the week, Mr. Wainwright used his axe to hew the floor somewhat flat. There were gaps between the saplings and he stuffed these with mosses that grew by the river to keep out the creatures of the night. One of the tarpaulins on each side of the hut completed the floor.

Each and every morning, he walked the trail to the high place from which the sea was visible. On the third morning, the Rislane and the schooner were gone. He returned with this news and his decision they should wait for another ship to call on the island for water. They set about making their lives more comfortable. From small trees, Mr. Wainwright manufactured rough chairs that they might sit on something other than the soil of the island. From other small tree trunks he constructed a table of sorts. The mainsail of the jollyboat, folded into a rectangle and hung by vines became a door to their hut. The jib likewise served as a door between the two sleeping areas. The sea provided a few fish and there were always crabs that could be caught. Both filled their stomachs better than salt pork.

The next week, Mr. Wainwright noticed in the morning and a few times during the day -- usually before the noon meal, and before dinner, both Marie and Madeline would walk to the waterfall pool. Since they carried the pan Madeline used for cooking, he assumed they were only washing up the cooking utensils in preparation for the next meal.

On the first morning, he shouldered a musket and prepared to follow them. Madeline smiled and chided him for being too protective. After all, she said, the island had no natives and no one in a ship or boat could know of their presence. Should they need assistance, the waterfall pool was within speaking distance, and he had better things to which to attend than watching them do women's work.

One morning a few days later, he discovered the true reason for their trips to the pool.

He had been doing as he did every morning, noon, and evening, that being walking to his vantagepoint and scanning the sea for any sails. He found none, and started back to the hut. He was almost at the clearing when he heard talking from the direction of the pool. Thinking Marie and Madeline had been discovered by some intruder into their sanctuary, he checked his musket and then crept slowly along the now well-worn trail to the pool.

Madeline was standing in the pool and she was nude. Her back was to him, so he could see only the swell of her waist as it flowed into the crystal clear water to her wide hips, her back and shoulders and her arms. He quietly took a station behind a low bushy tree and peered between the branches.

Madeline turned then and Mr. Wainwright caught his breath. Marie had been hidden in front of Madeline, and she was likewise nude, though she was much different than Madeline.

Madeline had heavy breasts that sat low on her chest, and her large, pinkish nipples were likewise low on the pale, soft mounds. Through the clear water of the pool, he could see the mass of hair that covered her lower belly. It was dark brown, as dark or darker than the hair on her head, and tapered as it disappeared between her thighs.

Marie's breasts were small and round, and her smaller, though darker nipples sat in the very center of the firm mounds like the stem of a boy's spinning top, though not so long. Her lower belly was also covered with a carpet the color of the auburn hair on her head. Her hips were the hips of a woman, but not so wide as those of Madeline, and her belly was rounded only enough to accent the two bumps of her hip bones.

Mr. Wainwright had not thought about women for some time other than thinking of the safety and comfort of Marie and Madeline. The desires of a man now came rushing into his brain, and he felt his manhood stiffen until it thrust out against his trousers. He was about to take his leave when Marie spoke.

"Madeline, is it not odd that we have the curse on the same days?"

"No, it often happens that way when women live closely together. We have lived in the same house since before your first time. It is a perfectly normal thing."

"At least it is done for this time. It felt so wonderful to bathe again. I always feel soiled."

"Yes, as do I. 'Tis a good thing we brought the small soaps and women's towels I put in my bag, else we would be using moss like the native girls and washing with only water."

"They use only moss?"

"Yes. It is held in place by a sort of harness made from leather or the soft fibers of a tree found just inside the rough outer bark."

"I would think that very uncomfortable."

Madeline smiled.

"When I was young girl, I used such a method. 'Tis no more uncomfortable than a woman's towel held between your legs."

They walked out of the water then and began drying themselves. Mr. Wainwright was struck breathless by Marie's slender thighs and calves. He remembered to breathe again when Marie spoke.

"Do you think Mr. Wainwright suspects what we have been doing?"

"No, and that is why we come here at the times we do and why I always carry my pot. He will believe we are only washing it. In any event, men do not think of such things unless they are married, and then only when it causes them disappointment."

"If I were married to Mr. Wainwright, I would never disappoint him. There are other ways. You told me yourself."

Madeline laughed.

"Marie, your mind is befuddled by Mr. Wainwright's actions to save us from the pirates. You should not think of doing such things with him."

"I can not help myself. Do you believe he thinks of me?"

"Most men think of women, but only how they would be between the sheets. I would suppose Mr. Wainwright to be the same."

"Your husband, was he the same?"

Madeline paused the motions of the towel between her spread thighs and smiled.

"No. He was a friend, then a husband, and then a lover. He never asked anything of me that I was not more than happy to give him."

"Why have you never remarried? Most women would have."

"My Jack was too perfect to replace, so I never tried to do so after he passed. Besides, I am forty years old, and no man wants an old woman in his bed."

"I want my husband to be like your Jack, and I too will give him anything for which he asks."

Madeline laughed again.

"Marie, you think too much about such things for a young girl. Come now, get dressed. Mr. Wainwright will be coming back from his hill."

Mr. Wainwright slipped quietly back to the hut and then far enough up the trail to the vantagepoint he could watch for Marie and Madeline but not be himself seen. When they walked up to the hut, he counted to a hundred and then walked back down the trail.

Mr. Wainwright spent an hour at the hut, but he was shamed by the fact he was constantly staring at Marie. She only smiled when she chanced to see him, but he was uneasy. Captain Knowles had entrusted him to protect these women, and having such thoughts was not being protective. He announced he would walk to the beach to see if he might find a fish or some crabs.

Mr. Wainwright was not looking for food so much as he was thinking. He had thought Marie to be just a girl up until he saw her and Madeline in the waterfall pool. Now, he saw her as a woman, her body ripe and arousing. His promise to Captain Knowles forced him to attempt to put aside those thoughts, but they would not leave his mind.

He thought again of her firm breasts and imagined them in his hands, then pressed against his chest as she embraced him. He thought of the auburn curls that covered her mound and sex and imagined feeling them with first his fingertips and then with his rigid manhood as he pierced the girl's maidenhead and made her a true woman. Of course, he would never do such a thing here on the island. To do so would have been against everything he believed and would compromise his promise to Captain Knowles, but the thought of their bodies entwined as he pumped his seed into her caused his manhood to become erect again.

He stopped before reaching the beach, opened his trousers and released his raging erection from the confines, then closed his eyes.

He would kiss her, gently at first, and let Marie decide when those kisses would become the kisses of passions aroused to the heights of needing more. Marie would gasp when he touched her breasts, and would open her thighs to his exploring fingers. She would be damp there at first, then become slippery as his fingers caressed her secret lips. He would suckle at her dark pink nipples then, and her juices would flow to prepare her to accept his rigid cock.

He remembered Marie telling Madeline about "other ways" to please a man. Perhaps she would grasp his cock and gently stroke it as he was then doing. Her small hand would be soft and cause wonderful sensations that would increase his desire to plunge his rigid shaft into her clasping depths. She would gasp when he entered her and cry out when he made her a woman. Once the portal was opened, she would welcome his thrusts and hold him tight against her body as he spent.

His hips jerked as the streams of white erupted from his swollen manhood and he gasped with each spurt. When the spurts had slowed to a dribble, he stripped the length, then readjusted his trousers and closed them. Still in the daze of the intense release, he did not hear the quiet pad of bare feet making their way back to the hut.

Marie had decided to follow Mr. Wainwright to the beach, to help him find crabs, she'd said, though Madeline suspected a very different motive. She agreed but said she would also go as she had not yet seen the beach.

The shoes they had both worn for sea travel were stylish but not very comfortable if one did much walking. Since those first treks from the jollyboat to the site of the hut, both had removed their shoes and gone barefoot. Their footsteps on the rough path made little if any sound.