The African Slave Girl

Note: This is not just a sex story, it is more a novella, that contains explicit sex, so be advised, if you don't want a long story, only sex, then please don't read. All references to the Wodaabe tribe are absolutely accurate. Excuse any inaccuracies with regards to time and distance, I have sailed on many seas but I am not a navigator.

It seemed to be forever that we had been searching for the slavers. In fact, for five weeks now, we had been cruising the southern islands of the Caribbean.

We had sighted them once, two ships close to the horizon, but near enough for the best top man to be able to make out their sail rig, we knew it was them.

Their course had suggested that they were making for Guiana in South America, they were trying to run the blockade of the Royal Navy, that had been set up after most European countries had outlawed slavery

But then, the hurricane had struck, it was one of the worst in living memory, and it had come upon us with so little warning, no time at all to make for a safe haven, especially if you were too far from land. Any ships caught at sea were in serious trouble, especially anything small, the only safe place was one of the well-sheltered harbours.

We were close to land but with no suitable harbour close by, we had no choice but to run before the wind. This in itself has not been easy, we had only just managed to clear the tip of one island, in constant danger of the wind driving us ashore, where we would have foundered on the vicious rocks we could see all too clearly, just a hundred yards off our beam.

The slavers had faced exactly the same predicament, but their course had allowed them to pass to the east of the islands, where-as, we had been forced to the west.

For three days we rode the storm, sails ripped away, spars broken like match-sticks, mountainous seas battering the ship. Most of the crew had never before been so frightened, even some of the older hands, who had experienced the Bay of Biscay at its worst, had looked apprehensive. I couldn't comprehend how we had not lost a mast.

By the time it had started to ease, we barely had a sail left intact. A chaos of hanging ropes and railings smashed. Even two guns had broken adrift below, smashing everything in their path, before the Chief Gunner and his gun crews somehow managed to secure them safely once more. The sail master and his team were now working like trojans, stitching and patching whatever was available, in an attempt to give us sufficient sail so we could gain headway, to once more set a course.

The First Mate reported to the Captain, that although the ship had sprung at least two planks below the waterline, for the moment the pumps were coping well enough at keeping the water in the bilges at a safe level. But, he pointed out we could only manage a few days of pumping before we ran out of men fit enough to man the pumps. Quite a number were carrying injuries, such as a broken arm or a badly turned ankle, the doctor had been kept busy. We needed to make a landfall where the ship could be careened, to allow repairs to be carried out, re-caulking the sprung planking.

The slavers had disappeared, they could be anywhere by now if they had survived the storm that is. Perish the thought, of the plight of those poor souls, chained below decks, life would have been sheer hell for them, and no chance of survival should their ship have suffered any mishap. The slavers would not have released them from their prison, they would have drowned, chained where they were.

The Captain had decided that we set a course that would take us between Granada and St. Vincent, allowing us a vague chance of sighting our prey. Failing any sighting, we would continue north to St. Lucia, a suitable place to carry out the necessary repairs we needed.

It was the bosun who suggested to the Captain that perhaps he make a small detour to the east, he seemed to remember an island named Mustique, where he thought there was a large bay with waters deep enough to allow a ship to approach the beach, this was to the south west of the island, he recalled the name of Les Jolies Eaux or similar. It was a place pirates had often used in the past, it might be possible the slavers were there. The French were more inclined to turn a blind eye, as long as there was no trouble.

If we could catch them in the bay, and as long as the winds were in our favour, they could be trapped.

One day later, came the shout, "Land ho, four points to larboard." (port side today).

"What sail?" the Captain hollered.

The lookout reported seeing nothing.

The Captain, was at the chart table, to the First Officer he ordered, "Alter course to take us east, we'll clear the bay to the south and anchor the other side of the nearest headland. If they're there, they won't see our sail."

The anchor was dropped in only eight fathoms of water. The long boat was ordered out and duly settled in the water alongside. The First Lieutenant led a party of five sailors, six marines, plus one Midshipman. They were to land at the head of the small bay, from there trek to the top of the headland, where, if the slavers were there, they would see them below. He would raise a green flag if they were, red if there was nothing.

Three hours later, the lookout called, "Green flag, just below the head, sir."

The long boat was sent the recall signal. The Marines under the command of the Middie remained ashore, as the boat pulled hard, back to the ship.

The slavers were there, one at anchor, the other careened on the beach, an easy target it would seem.

Two boats took another fourteen marines and a handful of seamen ashore. The Captain's plan was for the marines and a handful of sailors to wait until midnight before crossing the headland, to take up a position in the scrub and trees overlooking the beach. At dawn, we would sail across the mouth of the bay. The ship would fire a warning shot, to lay close on the anchored vessel. At the same time, the marines would open fire at any crew that was visible.

At the allotted time, we cleared the headland, "Fire when ready," came the order, the Chief Gunner laid his aim, then touched his burning taper to the firing hole. A cloud of smoke, momentarily hid the slaver from view, as the explosion died away the sound of musket fire, from the marines could be clearly heard.

It was all over, within minutes the slavers had hauled their colours, we tacked about, then sailed in, the heavy bow chaser aimed at the slaver, just in case of any trickery.

The Captain turned to me, "Take a boarding party Lieutenant, two boats I think will do, and secure that slaver." The First Officer was to lead another party ashore to take the beached slaver, supported by the marines already ashore.

It was only a short pull to get us alongside the slaver, one boat either side and then we boarded, ready for a fight. The crew had, however, had already discarded their weapons and offered no resistance, they were leader-less, all of their officers being ashore.

"Uncover the hatches," I ordered. The stench that came from below was dreadful as the covers came away, we could hear the wailing that came from within. "Bosun, send two of the slavers down, have them release the slaves and fetch them up on deck."

"Pardon my saying sir, they might not get out alive, once they go down there."

"That's their problem, besides it would serve them right."

A shout came from the Captain's companionway. "Sir, I think you needs be seein' this." He led the way to the Captains cabin.

"You needs be careful sir, she has a knife."

"What are you talking about man?"

I stepped through the doorway. Just in time, I saw the blade flying at me, I ducked and heard the thud as it buried into the door frame, inches from my head.

She was like a wild animal spitting at me, as she searched for something else to throw.

I saw that a chain was attached to the shackle fastened around her ankle, she could only move in a small arc, perhaps three feet or so. I stared at her with shock, I could see that she was terrified, but also very brave and dangerous. She wasn't cowed as slaves usually are after months at sea, she was a fighter.

She did not look like the typical Negro African. She was very tall, her hair was long and it crested in a wave above her forehead, her breasts were high and stood out firmly in front of her. I even noticed the brilliant white of her perfectly formed teeth. The only blemish, if you can call it that, were the patterns scarred across her face and above her breasts, they were, I thought, actually quite attractive. Her age was about twenty I would have guessed. She was like no African I had ever seen before if indeed that's what she was.

My thoughts came back to reality, as a heavy plate narrowly missed me. There was now though nothing else within her reach that she could throw. Her eyes cast desperately about, I could see she was on the verge of tears, she shrank back from me, as I took a step forward.

I placed my pistol and sword on the table, well out of her reach. I held out my hands, palms up, and empty. "It's okay, I mean you no harm," I spoke quietly and in a gentle voice, although I doubted she understood a word of it.

She was now backed against the cot she was chained to, she fell backwards, then scuttled to the bulkhead and cringed from me in the corner.

I saw a pitcher of water on the table, so I poured a cup, and held it out to her. She looked at me, eyes wide and scared.

I slowly moved a step closer, she tried to shrink yet further from me, I offered the cup closer, her eyes darted from the cup to my face, then back again, but she didn't reach out. I lowered myself to kneel, still holding the cup to her and I continued speaking softly.

Her hand lifted slightly but no more, so I leaned and set the cup on the cot in front of her, then I rose and stepped back.

I called out of the cabin, "Fetch the bosun for me."

I instructed him to place a guard on the cabin, on pain of death, if he let anyone enter. On deck once more, I sent a boat ashore with instructions to bring the slaver Captain back.

I pushed the Captain ahead of me, into his cabin, the girl shrieked and cowered down, but I shoved him roughly into the chair at his table. "Tie him up," I ordered.

"You speak English?" I demanded. He affirmed, with a little bow of his head.

"Who is she, and where's she from?"

"Senor, I do not know her name, she is from North Africa, the desert regions far inland from the coast, I believe that her people are called the Wodaabe or possibly the Fulani.

Later I would learn from our doctor, that the Wodaabe were a nomadic tribe living along the southern edges of the Sahara, they were not Negro, some thought they originated centuries ago from Egypt. Their language is entirely unique to them, nothing similar is spoken anywhere in the then known Africa.

"Give me the key to her chains." I snapped at him.

"Senor, take care, she is very dangerous." But he indicated a draw.

"Take him away, put him with the rest, I've no wish to set eyes on him again."

I retrieved the key, I turned and showed it to her. I called the sentry and indicated for him to take my pistol and sword outside.

Then, I approached the cot, with the key held out, I still thought that she might try and run the moment she was free. It was when I got closer, that I saw the welts on her arms and shoulders, angry marks showed the beating she had been given.

I rose to fetch a bowl and cloth, I dipped the cloth in cold water, then offered it towards her arm. She stared at me as I reached out and laid the cloth on her injuries, I saw her flinch but she remained totally silent, gently I bathed her arm, and then the other. I went to put the cloth to her shoulder, but again she cringed away, I lay the cloth on her hand and pointed, she remained still for an age, then put it to her shoulder. I was surprised when she passed it back to me. I dipped it in the bowl, then indicated for her to turn, she didn't appear to get my meaning, so I pointed at my back and then at her.

Again she stared, but then, slowly she turned her back to me. I was horrified at what I saw, these weren't just welts, some were open cuts right across her back. She must have been in terrible pain.

As gently as was possible, I bathed her back, this time she didn't flinch, not in the slightest. I tapped her arm, and she turned back to face me. There was a look of wonder on her face.

I took the key from my pocket, and held it up, I pointed at her ankle, then tried to indicate a calming motion with my hands. She seemed to understand because she gave me a small nod.

I unlocked her restraint and waited for her to run, but instead, she sat and rubbed at her swollen ankle. I reached for her hand and pointed to the chair at the table. She took my hand, still watching me intently, as I led her to the chair. Making sure the guard was at the door first, I then went over to the curtain that shielded the Captain's pantry. I found only biscuits, bread and some stale cheese, I piled some on a plate and took them back to her.

She took some bread and ate, I watched as she sniffed at the cheese, she seemed satisfied and took a little bite. For the first time, a small smile touched her face, as she commenced to eat all the cheese. I fetched the cup of water to her, she drank again, thirstily.

I found one of the Captains silk shirts and held it to her, but she looked puzzled. I lifted her arm and guided it to the sleeve, then pointed to her other arm, this time she put her arm though herself, I laid the collar gently over her shoulders

She stood and looked into the mirror and studied her reflection, I pointed to my own shirt, showing her how it was tucked into my breeches.

Without hesitation, she lifted the shirt and tucked it into the skirt she was wearing. Her breasts though were still showing at the front, I indicated the buttons but she just frowned. Carefully I reached, she made no attempt to stop me as I fastened two buttons, then she pushed my hand away and fastened the rest herself.

I pointed upwards to above deck, and turned to the door, her hand took my arm and stopped me, I turned to look, she gazed at me, then her hand came up, her fingers touched my cheek, then she spoke, I have no idea what she was saying, but I was reassured.

She indicated the doorway, so I led the way back up and into the sunshine. I watched her as she took in everything around us. The freed slaves now in the open, sitting in the ship's bows, with fresh water to drink and salt water to bathe. None were like her, not in any way.

She saw the slaver's crew, sitting under guard, she went towards them as I followed closely, she stopped in front of one of the Captain, then she spat at him and her hand shot out and slapped his face with a resounding crack, hard enough to knock him over, for a moment she stood looking down at him, then she spun around and walked away.

I led her to the side, pointed to the boat and then the shore, she nodded and took my offered hand to be helped up and over the side, before climbing down to the boat.

Onshore, I enquired if the doctor was about, then found him in a tent set up as a temporary medical room.

The girl looked apprehensive, faced with this bearded monster of a man.

But I reached for her hand, carefully pulled up a sleeve, showing the doctor the welts. He tutted, then swore, but quickly reached for one of his many pots, before he applied a salve, with tender care for such a giant of a man.

It must have had an immediate soothing effect, I saw her smile, a little more the earlier. I sat her on a stool, and unbuttoned her shirt, to ease it from her shoulders. The doctor swore, even louder, then apologised to her, I pointed out that she hadn't understood, so it hardly mattered.

The bosun had entered, he saw her back, I heard him curse as sailors will.

The doctor fetched another pot, saying this would sting. I took her hands in mine and smiled at her. She gripped hard when the lotion entered her wounds, her eyes fixed on mine, I saw one tear leave her eye, to roll down her cheek.

"At least they're clean, no signs of any infection at the moment, but I'll need to check them again tomorrow."

I pulled her to her feet, after replacing her shirt, she turned and touched the doctor's hand, saying a few words in her strange language. Then she followed me out.

The Captain was striding across the sand towards us, "Well done Lieutenant, a nice job today." He looked at the girl, "The bosun has told me about the girl, how she was found. He seemed to consider for a moment, "I'm putting you in command of the slaver you took, you're to take the least well of the slaves and sail her to Barbados, the Governor can decide on what best to do with them. As you seem to be the one she trusts, you'll take her with you. How soon can you have the ship ready to sail?"

"Two days, at the most, should do it. What about her crew?"

He said that they would stay here with them, as I wouldn't have a large enough crew, to both sail the ship and have to keep guard on the slavers.

The bosun soon had the hands busy sorting sails and spars, so I was happy to leave him in charge.

The bosun had sent two men to erected a tent, just in the tree line, Two cots were installed, a wash basin and small bench completed the furnishings. One of the seamen lit a fire and set a pot, fresh water boiling for coffee.

The seaman passed us two steaming mugs, then saying he would fetch us food once the cook had produced something to eat, he left us alone.

We had drunk our coffee, the girl pointed to the trees, I looked puzzled. She made a "Pssss" kind of noise, I felt stupid when I understood and must have blushed. She smiled, then disappeared into the trees. I realised my mistake, would she run, perhaps not to be seen again.

But she did return and went and washed. She pointed to the cot, I nodded, she went and laid down. In minutes she was asleep, laying on her side to protect her back, as I sat and studied her. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. (Authors note; The Wodaabe are considered to be the most attractive of any race in Africa, they are not related in any way, to any Negro tribe, neither are they Arab.)

Sometime later, I gently shook her awake, her fear came back, her hands raised to strike out at me, then awareness dawned on her face, she took my hands and spoke, naturally I knew not what she said.

I pointed at my chest and said "Jim." Then pointed at her, but she frowned, so I tried again, and this time she responded.

"Fulala," She said.

I handed her a plate of food, she looked at the fork, then chose the spoon to eat. As soon as she had finished, she returned to the cot, she was clearly exhausted.

I sat and smoked my pipe, a glass of wine in my hand.

Darkness had fallen when I checked her, she still slept soundly, a more peaceful look to her face. I turned the lamp down low, just enough to leave a glow, should she wake. Then I lay down, it had been a long and hard day, in seconds I was asleep.

I woke in darkness, the lamp had burned out, I wondered what had woken me. An arm was laying across my chest, I felt her body alongside mine. I smiled to myself in the darkness and went back to sleep.

The early morning light struck my face, I jumped awake, then rose and splashed my face. There was no sign of Fulala, but I smelled coffee brewing. The tent flap raised higher, she came in and handed me a cup, "Jim" she said.

A commotion erupted somewhere along the beach, I snatched up my pistol, rushing from the tent. A crowd was gathering just along the tree line. When I had pushed my way through I saw the slaver Captain swinging from a rope tied to a branch above.

My bosun came over, "Looks like he 'ung 'iself!" he said with a huge grin. I frowned at him, wondering how the now dead Captain would have been able to get past the sentries and then swim to shore. It didn't seem at all likely.