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Son of a Gun

Son of a Gun

Part One

by Velvetglove

The blade slid silently across young Grommet?s throat.

?What you looking at, boy ??

The Ship?s Lad froze in terror at the unexpected sound of the Second Mate?s growl. The erection, which the fourteen year old boy had been fisting through a slit in the inside pocket of his breeches, softened almost instantaneously in shock.

But not fast enough.

The iron grip of Master Wallis, the Second Mate, spun the fourteen year old lad around effortlessly.

With a wordless snarl, the bear-like older man stared coldly down in amusement at the petrified young voyeur?s bulge, then he quietly leaned forward so that he too could take a turn peeking through the hole.

Left-handed, he kept the sharp gutting knife poised in position, still pricking the vulnerable underside of young Grommet?s neck, while he pressed his right eye against the wood.

They were below decks in a dark, dingy storeroom adjacent to the most privileged part of the vessel; the passengers? quarters.

The tiny eyehole looked into the cabin of the only male and female couple on the voyage.

Wallis grinned at the display of Sir Rufus and Lady Rigby enjoying a cramped, afternoon fuck on the narrow double-cot. It was their honeymoon, after all. They were on their way to start married life together in South Africa.

He studied them, guessing the red-headed, red-blooded male was older than his wife, at around thirty. His ?Sir? was an inherited title. The young fuckwit obviously hadn?t done anything himself to merit an honour except hunt, shoot, fish and screw scullery maids. He was still wearing his cream silk shirt, riding up his back, as his pale buttocks hammered up and down on top of his young, nubile love.

The new Lady Helen Rigby was no more than twenty two, with a lovely glossy skinned face totally devoid of pockmarks and blemishes, a tousled mop of toffee coloured curls, brown doe-eyes, and tits like ripe grapefruits that were barely confined by her bodice.

Wallis couldn?t see her face at that moment but the position of her ankles drumming her husband?s back suggested the slut was probably enjoying her new afternoon pastime.

Wallis slowly pulled his eye away from the hole and stared back down at the anxious lad. He chuckled, sheathed his knife and ruffled the teenager?s hair.

?Run along, boy.?

*** *** ***

I laid the knife meaningfully along her throat.

Her lovely emerald eyes stared back up at me, saucer-wide and evidently full of terror.

?Open wide.?

My knees were planted firmly either side of her shoulders, my butt across her ribs, my sweaty balls bouncing on her cleavage. I was holding the knife in my right hand so that I could pump myself in a frenzy with my other fist.

The piece of cutlery I was pressing into her skin was blunt but she parted her jaws and hesitantly opened her plump red lips regardless.

I literally laughed aloud as the first huge rope of pearly semen uncoiled out of my cockslit and landed with an audible splat on her forehead, backfilling along the bridge of her nose, upper lip and into her gaping mouth.

She shut her eyes but not fast enough. A second jet pulsed in a straight line directly into her right eye then hosed her cheek.

She gasped as her eye stung, instinctively wriggling to try and use her hand to wipe it, but I had pinned both her arms still by her side.

In the throes of my orgasm, I couldn?t help her, even had I?d wanted to. I kept frantically jacking my dick with my left hand, aiming for the other side of her face, watching the third of my customary ?big three? dollops land in her other eye socket, leaving a trail from her chin to her eyebrow.

Oh boy, do I love a face painting session !

My balls still had a couple more bullets in the chamber. Not as messy as the opening triple torpedo salvo but just as tasty. I concentrated my firepower into her mouth, looking down as it coated her tongue, gums and palate.

A few seconds later, I was done.

?Phew !? I exclaimed, lifting a knee, climbing off her chest and collapsing on the mattress beside her. ?Pheweee.?

I glanced up at the digital clock by my side of the hotel bed. The green numbers told me I?d timed everything perfectly. The pay-per-view movie I?d selected was starting at seven.

She was reaching out to her bedside table for a tissue. Her fingers fumbled about, eyes shut tight due to my stinging juice.

I watched her a moment, getting my breath. At last she found the box and extracted a tissue, pulling it over to her face.

?Let me.? I said, softly.

I used my fingers to scoop as much of my coagulating spunk as possible into a puddle and eased it onto her upper lip.

?Open up.?

Obediently, she made an ?o? with her mouth.

I tipped the goo in and only afterwards used the tissue to mop up the residue from her eye sockets and nostrils. I laid the useless knife on my bedside table. It was one of those cheap, blunt ones that airlines used for meals before 9/11, and hotels still do. It had come with our room service tray of tropical fruits, fresh breads and a wonderful cheese plate.

Cautiously, she blinked open her eyelids. Her mascara had smeared into a detonation of dark streaks.

We smiled at each other.

This was a special holiday. We both knew it. Chances were we would return to London engaged, unless something went very wrong. I?d spent over ten years looking for ?the one?. And my numerous adverts had finally found me Misty; stunning, sexy, fascinating, funny, bubbly, inquisitive, only 22 but adult beyond her years.

And - obviously above all - kinky and submissive.

I turned on my side and ran my hand down from her smeared face, over her elegant neck, between her ample breasts, stretching my fingers over to thumb her erect, hard nipples, then across her flat stomach to her tousled pubic curls. We?d already done the shaved pussy thing and now I?d let her grow it back into a luxuriant dark triangle.

I teasingly fingered her aroused clit.

She gasped and tilted her head back fractionally. ?Facial rapes? never failed to get Misty going.

?You want to come, baby ??

Her eyes rolled gently.

?Please ??

I glanced over at the clock.

18:59. Movie time ! She loves it when I deny her release. Makes her do all sorts of things to earn it.

I pulled away from Misty?s clit and ruffled her hair.

?Well, you?ll just have to wait. Run and fetch the TV remote.?

*** *** ***

The year was 1859.

Exciting times. Around the globe, the French Navy?s ?La Gloire? was being launched as the world?s first ocean-going ironclad warship, Oregon had been admitted as the 33rd US State and John Brown?s raid on Harper?s Ferry in Virginia was about to signal a general slave rebellion and thus indirectly trigger a Civil War in America.

Meanwhile, in Second Mate Wallis?s home port of London, the great bell Big Ben had just chimed for the first time, and the British Naturalist Charles Darwin was putting the finishing touches to his book ?The Origin of Species?.

In the Spring of that year, a Merchant Packet Ship, The ?Descendant?, had left Southampton, pausing in Lisbon, and it was now on its way to Port Elizabeth in SouthAfrica, carrying a cargo of equipment, dry goods, port wine, and a small number of passengers, brave or foolhardy enough to make the journey.

They included the aforementioned honeymooners Sir Rufus and Lady Rigby and the good knight?s younger sister, Rose, whom he was escorting south to join up with her fianc?, Major Seaton of the British Army. The other three passengers were all male, all ordinary, and shortly never to be heard of again.

The ?Descendant? was an honest merchant ship of sturdy construction, with three officers, namely Captain Bates, First Mate Lubbock and Second Mate Wallis. Her crew comprised a cook, a carpenter, a boatswain, 11 able seamen and 12 ordinary seamen. Plus one Ship?s Boy.

Like most of her journeys, this one had been uneventful so far. She rode out the few storms, negotiated the Doldrums, and was making good time in a strong breeze for Port Elizabeth when disaster struck.

Just before dawn on the morning after Second Mate Wallis had spied on the happy couple making love in their quarters, the ship shuddered to a halt with an ear splitting crash.

The ?Descendant? had become helplessly impaled on an uncharted rock. Her hull was opened up as completely as Grommet?s throat might have been by the Second Mate?s blade. Seawater gushed into the engine room and then a freak wave twisted the knife, condemning the ship to the depths.

There was only sufficient time to launch two of her three lifeboats. The First Mate, three passengers and eight of the crew clambered into the first.

The Second Mate, three passengers and another eight crew had a few moments to gather some equipment and belongings before jumping into the second.

Captain Bates himself went down honourably with his ship, while the remaining crew flailed in the foaming water until the sharks put an end to their suffering.

A century and more later, the ?Descendant? had become one of South Africa?s ten most popular diving wrecks.

It is not known what happened to the first lifeboat. There is no historical record of a First Mate called Lubbock surviving nor any of other the three passengers who climbed into his boat.

But the second lifeboat made it to land. Of sorts.

It drifted for 30 hours, as the ocean swell raged, then dwindled into steady rollers under a gentle rain. Inside the boat the ten men and two women huddled dejectedly on the floor. The men stared at their feet glumly and the traumatised women wept, then slept.

Wallis surveyed the motley crew and decided he was ?Second Mate? no more. The Captain had gone down and Wallis doubted he would ever set eyes on the First Mate again. He studied the sole male passenger, Sir Rufus, and surmised that any leadership skills the man might have were suited to shiny redcoats, cavalry charges and a formal military structure.

No, in this situation, Wallis was definitely in charge.

Mid-afternoon on the second day, young Grommet, taking his turn as watch, spied a solitary island. It emerged slowly from below the endless horizon, until they could all make out a silhouette resembling a fat man floating on his back in the water.

As they drew closer, Wallis saw there was a mountain rising like a paunch, covered in lush foliage, and a second smaller hill reminiscent of a head, with sandy beaches and palm trees fringing the entire island.

Without consulting anybody, he formally assumed command.

?To starboard.? He bellowed, peering into the crystal clear waters for any sign of rocks as they navigated to shore.

His lifeboat crew comprised several of his best mates; Greaser, Donkey and Stoker from the boiler room, and Limey Jack, an able Seaman. Only ?Doc?, who was the Ship?s Cook, and the old carpenter and another crewman were unknown quantities. Grommet, the Ship?s Boy would do as he was told. The men paddled using the two oars combined with other bits of equipment to row the longboat towards the shoreline.

The three passengers, Sir Rufus, Lady Helen, and Rose huddled in the back of the boat and behaved as if they still believed they were paying passengers. Wallis growled.

?You !? he snapped at Sir Rufus. ?Get your head down that side of the boat and look out for rocks.?

The pompous, carrot-topped, freckled face looked up at him aghast.

?Do it. Now.? Wallis roared, snarling until the man obeyed.

Carefully, they made it ashore and beached the longboat.

Wallis, accompanied by Greaser, the engine room oiler, took a tour of the island. It covered a few square miles and was almost completely surrounded by white sandy beach. They managed to use their cutlasses to hack through the scrub forest that covered most of the inland ridge and there, to their immense relief, was a natural spring stream running along the side of the mountain. They also spied a few goats, rabbits and a mass of wild berries.

As they were walking back to the beach to convey the good news to the other members of the party, they spotted the two women who had removed their sodden dresses and were drying them behind a clump of rocks. They were sharing a woollen blanket that Lady Helen had produced from her sack of possessions.

Greaser exchanged glances with Wallis.

Both men smiled stained and gap toothed grins.

But there was no rush. At first there was too much to do.

Wallis organised them into pairs to perform the most suitable roles.

The carpenter had brought a few of his tools with him in the lifeboat. He and a crewman set to work constructing a shelter.

Greaser and Donkey collected wood for the hut and also built a fire.

Stoker and Limey Jack strung bows and cut arrows, with flint tips, and took them and the cutlasses to catch food.

Wallis and Doc completed a thorough inventory of everything they possessed; each individual crewman?s possessions and the general supplies from the boat; knives, bowls, rope, needles, thread, candles, cutlery, seeds, a mariner?s clock and a compass.

And there was a single firearm that Wallis kept for himself; a fine 12-bore sidelock hammer pigeon gun that could be used to shoot animals - or man - as required.

With water, some food, their equipment, and luck, they had a chance of survival, as long as another ship came by to rescue them within a few weeks, or perhaps even months.

In the meantime, Wallis studiously ignored the three ?passengers?. Their fare had run out when the ship went down.

Now they were on their own !

That first meal of goat and berries, and freshwater, tasted as good as any ship?s rations. The men stood around in a circle, grinning as the bloody meat soiled their straggly beards and rags.

Eventually Sir Rufus approached.

?Er ? may we ? join you ??

Wallis looked at him coldly. ?You want to share ??

?Yes, rather.?

?Sure.? He said eventually. ?We?ll all share everything then.?

Wallis watched him start to pull off a leg of goat meat to take it over to the two women huddled together thirty yards away.

?Nah. Tell them to come over here, nice and warm like, by the fire.?

The man?s eyes sparked in the firelight. ?But they are not dressed properly !?

There was a tense hush. All of the crewmen had stopped eating.

Wallis allowed ten, fifteen awkward and menacing seconds to pass before he replied.

?No. They?re not are they ? Okay, you take them some food. Tonight.?

The next morning, Wallis pulled the old carpenter over to one side.

?Choice, old timer. You for me or against me ??

The old man?s rheumy eyes glanced at him. He didn?t need to speak. The eyes said ?for?.

Wallis drew with a stick in the sand. He smiled.

?Can you build these. Nice and sturdy ??

The carpenter nodded silently.

The second evening, they had found wild yams and Greaser had fashioned a harpoon with which he had speared a fish. Alongside a rabbit and more berries, it was a veritable feast.

Rufus approached again.

?I?d be ever so grateful ??

Wallis interrupted him.

?Bring them over here.?

?But ??

?They don?t come here, then none of you eat.?

With a gulp, Sir Rufus Digby turned around. Wallis spat out a fishbone. Take these pompous lords and ladies out of their fancy houses with no servants and see how they cope.

Slowly the two young women in their sun-dried dresses came over with their chaperone.

Wallis scratched behind his ear.

Lady Helen and young Rose hesitantly stepped into the circle around the campfire. The crewmen took just a step or two back, no more.

?Last night,? Wallis said, grinning at Sir Rufus, ?we all agreed to share everything, right ??

?Well ??

Without warning, Wallis seized Lady Helen by her collar. There was a shout of approval from his men and an anguished groan from Sir Rufus. Rose screamed and tried to run from the enclosure of burly men but she was caught by Limey Jack, who had been ready, on account of the sign Wallis had given by scratching his ear.

?Well, then you are going to share your wife with us !? Wallis announced over the tumult, hurling Lady Helen down into the sand, ripping her dress.

?Noooo?? Sir Rufus roared, charging, but a cudgel blow to the head knocked him unconscious. When he awoke, the world would never be the same again.

END OF PART ONE

Son of a Gun

Part One

by Velvetglove

The blade slid silently across young Grommet?s throat.

?What you looking at, boy ??

The Ship?s Lad froze in terror at the unexpected sound of the Second Mate?s growl. The erection, which the fourteen year old boy had been fisting through a slit in the inside pocket of his breeches, softened almost instantaneously in shock.

But not fast enough.

The iron grip of Master Wallis, the Second Mate, spun the fourteen year old lad around effortlessly.

With a wordless snarl, the bear-like older man stared coldly down in amusement at the petrified young voyeur?s bulge, then he quietly leaned forward so that he too could take a turn peeking through the hole.

Left-handed, he kept the sharp gutting knife poised in position, still pricking the vulnerable underside of young Grommet?s neck, while he pressed his right eye against the wood.

They were below decks in a dark, dingy storeroom adjacent to the most privileged part of the vessel; the passengers? quarters.

The tiny eyehole looked into the cabin of the only male and female couple on the voyage.

Wallis grinned at the display of Sir Rufus and Lady Rigby enjoying a cramped, afternoon fuck on the narrow double-cot. It was their honeymoon, after all. They were on their way to start married life together in South Africa.

He studied them, guessing the red-headed, red-blooded male was older than his wife, at around thirty. His ?Sir? was an inherited title. The young fuckwit obviously hadn?t done anything himself to merit an honour except hunt, shoot, fish and screw scullery maids. He was still wearing his cream silk shirt, riding up his back, as his pale buttocks hammered up and down on top of his young, nubile love.

The new Lady Helen Rigby was no more than twenty two, with a lovely glossy skinned face totally devoid of pockmarks and blemishes, a tousled mop of toffee coloured curls, brown doe-eyes, and tits like ripe grapefruits that were barely confined by her bodice.

Wallis couldn?t see her face at that moment but the position of her ankles drumming her husband?s back suggested the slut was probably enjoying her new afternoon pastime.

Wallis slowly pulled his eye away from the hole and stared back down at the anxious lad. He chuckled, sheathed his knife and ruffled the teenager?s hair.

?Run along, boy.?

*** *** ***

I laid the knife meaningfully along her throat.

Her lovely emerald eyes stared back up at me, saucer-wide and evidently full of terror.

?Open wide.?

My knees were planted firmly either side of her shoulders, my butt across her ribs, my sweaty balls bouncing on her cleavage. I was holding the knife in my right hand so that I could pump myself in a frenzy with my other fist.

The piece of cutlery I was pressing into her skin was blunt but she parted her jaws and hesitantly opened her plump red lips regardless.

I literally laughed aloud as the first huge rope of pearly semen uncoiled out of my cockslit and landed with an audible splat on her forehead, backfilling along the bridge of her nose, upper lip and into her gaping mouth.

She shut her eyes but not fast enough. A second jet pulsed in a straight line directly into her right eye then hosed her cheek.

She gasped as her eye stung, instinctively wriggling to try and use her hand to wipe it, but I had pinned both her arms still by her side.

In the throes of my orgasm, I couldn?t help her, even had I?d wanted to. I kept frantically jacking my dick with my left hand, aiming for the other side of her face, watching the third of my customary ?big three? dollops land in her other eye socket, leaving a trail from her chin to her eyebrow.

Oh boy, do I love a face painting session !

My balls still had a couple more bullets in the chamber. Not as messy as the opening triple torpedo salvo but just as tasty. I concentrated my firepower into her mouth, looking down as it coated her tongue, gums and palate.

A few seconds later, I was done.

?Phew !? I exclaimed, lifting a knee, climbing off her chest and collapsing on the mattress beside her. ?Pheweee.?

I glanced up at the digital clock by my side of the hotel bed. The green numbers told me I?d timed everything perfectly. The pay-per-view movie I?d selected was starting at seven.

She was reaching out to her bedside table for a tissue. Her fingers fumbled about, eyes shut tight due to my stinging juice.

I watched her a moment, getting my breath. At last she found the box and extracted a tissue, pulling it over to her face.

?Let me.? I said, softly.

I used my fingers to scoop as much of my coagulating spunk as possible into a puddle and eased it onto her upper lip.

?Open up.?

Obediently, she made an ?o? with her mouth.

I tipped the goo in and only afterwards used the tissue to mop up the residue from her eye sockets and nostrils. I laid the useless knife on my bedside table. It was one of those cheap, blunt ones that airlines used for meals before 9/11, and hotels still do. It had come with our room service tray of tropical fruits, fresh breads and a wonderful cheese plate.

Cautiously, she blinked open her eyelids. Her mascara had smeared into a detonation of dark streaks.

We smiled at each other.

This was a special holiday. We both knew it. Chances were we would return to London engaged, unless something went very wrong. I?d spent over ten years looking for ?the one?. And my numerous adverts had finally found me Misty; stunning, sexy, fascinating, funny, bubbly, inquisitive, only 22 but adult beyond her years.

And - obviously above all - kinky and submissive.

I turned on my side and ran my hand down from her smeared face, over her elegant neck, between her ample breasts, stretching my fingers over to thumb her erect, hard nipples, then across her flat stomach to her tousled pubic curls. We?d already done the shaved pussy thing and now I?d let her grow it back into a luxuriant dark triangle.

I teasingly fingered her aroused clit.

She gasped and tilted her head back fractionally. ?Facial rapes? never failed to get Misty going.

?You want to come, baby ??

Her eyes rolled gently.

?Please ??

I glanced over at the clock.

18:59. Movie time ! She loves it when I deny her release. Makes her do all sorts of things to earn it.

I pulled away from Misty?s clit and ruffled her hair.

?Well, you?ll just have to wait. Run and fetch the TV remote.?

*** *** ***

The year was 1859.

Exciting times. Around the globe, the French Navy?s ?La Gloire? was being launched as the world?s first ocean-going ironclad warship, Oregon had been admitted as the 33^rd US State and John Brown?s raid on Harper?s Ferry in Virginia was about to signal a general slave rebellion and thus indirectly trigger a Civil War in America.

Meanwhile, in Second Mate Wallis?s home port of London, the great bell Big Ben had just chimed for the first time, and the British Naturalist Charles Darwin was putting the finishing touches to his book ?The Origin of Species?.

In the Spring of that year, a Merchant Packet Ship, The ?Descendant?, had left Southampton, pausing in Lisbon, and it was now on its way to Port Elizabeth in SouthAfrica, carrying a cargo of equipment, dry goods, port wine, and a small number of passengers, brave or foolhardy enough to make the journey.

They included the aforementioned honeymooners Sir Rufus and Lady Rigby and the good knight?s younger sister, Rose, whom he was escorting south to join up with her fianc?, Major Seaton of the British Army. The other three passengers were all male, all ordinary, and shortly never to be heard of again.

The ?Descendant? was an honest merchant ship of sturdy construction, with three officers, namely Captain Bates, First Mate Lubbock and Second Mate Wallis. Her crew comprised a cook, a carpenter, a boatswain, 11 able seamen and 12 ordinary seamen. Plus one Ship?s Boy.

Like most of her journeys, this one had been uneventful so far. She rode out the few storms, negotiated the Doldrums, and was making good time in a strong breeze for Port Elizabeth when disaster struck.

Just before dawn on the morning after Second Mate Wallis had spied on the happy couple making love in their quarters, the ship shuddered to a halt with an ear splitting crash.

The ?Descendant? had become helplessly impaled on an uncharted rock. Her hull was opened up as completely as Grommet?s throat might have been by the Second Mate?s blade. Seawater gushed into the engine room and then a freak wave twisted the knife, condemning the ship to the depths.

There was only sufficient time to launch two of her three lifeboats. The First Mate, three passengers and eight of the crew clambered into the first.

The Second Mate, three passengers and another eight crew had a few moments to gather some equipment and belongings before jumping into the second.

Captain Bates himself went down honourably with his ship, while the remaining crew flailed in the foaming water until the sharks put an end to their suffering.

A century and more later, the ?Descendant? had become one of South Africa?s ten most popular diving wrecks.

It is not known what happened to the first lifeboat. There is no historical record of a First Mate called Lubbock surviving nor any of other the three passengers who climbed into his boat.

But the second lifeboat made it to land. Of sorts.

It drifted for 30 hours, as the ocean swell raged, then dwindled into steady rollers under a gentle rain. Inside the boat the ten men and two women huddled dejectedly on the floor. The men stared at their feet glumly and the traumatised women wept, then slept.

Wallis surveyed the motley crew and decided he was ?Second Mate? no more. The Captain had gone down and Wallis doubted he would ever set eyes on the First Mate again. He studied the sole male passenger, Sir Rufus, and surmised that any leadership skills the man might have were suited to shiny redcoats, cavalry charges and a formal military structure.

No, in this situation, Wallis was definitely in charge.

Mid-afternoon on the second day, young Grommet, taking his turn as watch, spied a solitary island. It emerged slowly from below the endless horizon, until they could all make out a silhouette resembling a fat man floating on his back in the water.

As they drew closer, Wallis saw there was a mountain rising like a paunch, covered in lush foliage, and a second smaller hill reminiscent of a head, with sandy beaches and palm trees fringing the entire island.

Without consulting anybody, he formally assumed command.

?To starboard.? He bellowed, peering into the crystal clear waters for any sign of rocks as they navigated to shore.

His lifeboat crew comprised several of his best mates; Greaser, Donkey and Stoker from the boiler room, and Limey Jack, an able Seaman. Only ?Doc?, who was the Ship?s Cook, and the old carpenter and another crewman were unknown quantities. Grommet, the Ship?s Boy would do as he was told. The men paddled using the two oars combined with other bits of equipment to row the longboat towards the shoreline.

The three passengers, Sir Rufus, Lady Helen, and Rose huddled in the back of the boat and behaved as if they still believed they were paying passengers. Wallis growled.

?You !? he snapped at Sir Rufus. ?Get your head down that side of the boat and look out for rocks.?

The pompous, carrot-topped, freckled face looked up at him aghast.

?Do it. Now.? Wallis roared, snarling until the man obeyed.

Carefully, they made it ashore and beached the longboat.

Wallis, accompanied by Greaser, the engine room oiler, took a tour of the island. It covered a few square miles and was almost completely surrounded by white sandy beach. They managed to use their cutlasses to hack through the scrub forest that covered most of the inland ridge and there, to their immense relief, was a natural spring stream running along the side of the mountain. They also spied a few goats, rabbits and a mass of wild berries.

As they were walking back to the beach to convey the good news to the other members of the party, they spotted the two women who had removed their sodden dresses and were drying them behind a clump of rocks. They were sharing a woollen blanket that Lady Helen had produced from her sack of possessions.

Greaser exchanged glances with Wallis.

Both men smiled stained and gap toothed grins.

But there was no rush. At first there was too much to do.

Wallis organised them into pairs to perform the most suitable roles.

The carpenter had brought a few of his tools with him in the lifeboat. He and a crewman set to work constructing a shelter.

Greaser and Donkey collected wood for the hut and also built a fire.

Stoker and Limey Jack strung bows and cut arrows, with flint tips, and took them and the cutlasses to catch food.

Wallis and Doc completed a thorough inventory of everything they possessed; each individual crewman?s possessions and the general supplies from the boat; knives, bowls, rope, needles, thread, candles, cutlery, seeds, a mariner?s clock and a compass.

And there was a single firearm that Wallis kept for himself; a fine 12-bore sidelock hammer pigeon gun that could be used to shoot animals - or man - as required.

With water, some food, their equipment, and luck, they had a chance of survival, as long as another ship came by to rescue them within a few weeks, or perhaps even months.

In the meantime, Wallis studiously ignored the three ?passengers?. Their fare had run out when the ship went down.

Now they were on their own !

That first meal of goat and berries, and freshwater, tasted as good as any ship?s rations. The men stood around in a circle, grinning as the bloody meat soiled their straggly beards and rags.

Eventually Sir Rufus approached.

?Er ? may we ? join you ??

Wallis looked at him coldly. ?You want to share ??

?Yes, rather.?

?Sure.? He said eventually. ?We?ll all share everything then.?

Wallis watched him start to pull off a leg of goat meat to take it over to the two women huddled together thirty yards away.

?Nah. Tell them to come over here, nice and warm like, by the fire.?

The man?s eyes sparked in the firelight. ?But they are not dressed properly !?

There was a tense hush. All of the crewmen had stopped eating.

Wallis allowed ten, fifteen awkward and menacing seconds to pass before he replied.

?No. They?re not are they ? Okay, you take them some food. Tonight.?

The next morning, Wallis pulled the old carpenter over to one side.

?Choice, old timer. You for me or against me ??

The old man?s rheumy eyes glanced at him. He didn?t need to speak. The eyes said ?for?.

Wallis drew with a stick in the sand. He smiled.

?Can you build these. Nice and sturdy ??

The carpenter nodded silently.

The second evening, they had found wild yams and Greaser had fashioned a harpoon with which he had speared a fish. Alongside a rabbit and more berries, it was a veritable feast.

Rufus approached again.

?I?d be ever so grateful ??

Wallis interrupted him.

?Bring them over here.?

?But ??

?They don?t come here, then none of you eat.?

With a gulp, Sir Rufus Digby turned around. Wallis spat out a fishbone. Take these pompous lords and ladies out of their fancy houses with no servants and see how they cope.

Slowly the two young women in their sun-dried dresses came over with their chaperone.

Wallis scratched behind his ear.

Lady Helen and young Rose hesitantly stepped into the circle around the campfire. The crewmen took just a step or two back, no more.

?Last night,? Wallis said, grinning at Sir Rufus, ?we all agreed to share everything, right ??

?Well ??

Without warning, Wallis seized Lady Helen by her collar. There was a shout of approval from his men and an anguished groan from Sir Rufus. Rose screamed and tried to run from the enclosure of burly men but she was caught by Limey Jack, who had been ready, on account of the sign Wallis had given by scratching his ear.

?Well, then you are going to share your wife with us !? Wallis announced over the tumult, hurling Lady Helen down into the sand, ripping her dress.

?Noooo?? Sir Rufus roared, charging, but a cudgel blow to the head knocked him unconscious. When he awoke, the world would never be the same again.

END OF PART ONE

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Andersonville 23 A Twinkle in her Fathers Eyes

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