Chapter 1: The Island
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Oral Sex,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: The Island - A sailor wakes on a beach - but where? Slowly it all comes back and the sailor is faced with the task of staying alive. Some sex later in the story.
Pain! Hot searing pain! There was no room in his brain to process any other thoughts as the intense pain shoved all thoughts to the deepest recesses in the back of his head. He couldn't remember ever feeling such intense pain in his life; he felt his entire body was bathed in complete agony.
Even though disoriented, he could still feel the damp coarseness of sand against his face and the grit in his mouth, on his tongue and against his teeth. Slowly he opened one eye, but due to the intense reflection from the white sand, he quickly closed it. His disorientation was total ... he wondered where he was and why was there so much pain. He could tell he was on a beach, but where? He wondered how he arrived on this beach and most of all; he wondered why his body ached so much?
He decided to try to move. He at least wanted to move up from the water he now felt lapping at his feet. He marshaled all his strength and tried to push his body up. When he tried to push himself up on his right arm, he screamed aloud from the pain and then quickly fell back onto the sand; his arm giving way. He couldn't believe how much his whole body was hurting and the arm he had tried to use to push him body up didn't seem to want to obey.
Lying of the deserted beach, he tried to collect his thoughts. He tried to force his brain and think back to what had happened. What had transpired so that he would end up lying on a hot white sandy beach? He tried as hard as he could, but nothing came to mind. The throbbing pain wracking his body kept all but one thought at bay. Just one memory seemed to be there; all he could recall was a ship and being tied up in a port at ... what port and what ship was beyond him?
The sun beating down on his prone body disturbed his revelry. The intense burn of the sun made him think it must be around mid-day. The sun was directly above him and was becoming more unbearable by the minute. He knew he needed to try to crawl further up the beach or he would probably not be alive when the sun finally set. He had to try to get out of the direct sun, but he didn't know if his body would obey enough to allow him to move?
Since he had already discovered his right arm didn't work, he decided to try to use his left one. It kind of seemed to work, even through the pain of moving his body almost rendered him immobile; however he knew he had to push his body up the beach and towards the shade in the stand of trees if he was going to live.
As he crawled forward, once when he glanced up the beach towards the trees he quickly realized it had been a mistake; shade seemed to be miles away. He became very discouraged by how far the shade still was from his tortured body and he decided not to look up again. He decided he would just keep pushing himself over the sand until either he was out of the sun or he passed out.
Slowly, and with great difficulty, it seemed like days as he pulled himself up the beach until he was finally nestled in the relatively cool of the shade. The exertion of moving had set his body on fire again and once he was in the shade, the pain in his right arm and side made him pass out.
The next time he was awake he could tell time had passed and it was getting close to sundown. With just a little movement, he was able to move his body enough so he could watch the sun slip into the sea. Watching the sun, he realized if he was watching a sunset, he thought to himself, "I must be on the west side of..." His mind stopped. The next thought kept running repeatedly through his brain, "the west side of what?"
As he lay there, trying to remember more of where he was and why he was there, new bits and pieces would quickly float into mind and then just as quickly, flee. He forced his mind to hold on the next time a memory came through. Suddenly he remembered a lot of fighting. He closed his eyes and he heard orders screamed in fear, then new orders countermanding the previous ones. His mind settled on the chaos everywhere, sweaty, bloody bodies fighting and finally a loud noise and then the searing pain.
His eyes popped open and the pain reminded him of his right arm. Remembering the pain caused his mind to suddenly clear. He remembered a part of what happened. He recalled when the terrible pain happened in his right shoulder. He remembered how at that moment he had been climbing the mizzen shrouds fighting two men below him with a cutlass in his left hand. He remembered the searing pain in his right side, then loosing his grip on the rigging and finally falling into the water below. After that, there was nothing. How he had managed to get from the fighting on the ships to this beach ... he had no idea.
Thirst! His tongue felt swollen. He knew he was so thirsty ... but his mind wouldn't stop wondering where he was. Moreover, even more consuming, where was some water? He drifted off once more and when he awoke, morning was slowly coloring the sky. He watched the clouds become pink, move through scarlet and then the colors finally fade.
Hunger and thirst demanded he make some effort and try to move. Using his left arm again, he found he could push himself up to a sitting position. Not too far away was a palm tree and he pulled his body to the base of it. Using the tree, with great difficulty he pulled himself to a standing position. He quickly found that standing was a new experience in pain ... the world seemed to be spinning and he had to hold tightly on to the tree to keep from falling back down.
After standing for a while, his head started to clear a little and he noticed not too far away a small stream flowing into the bay. He was very pleased to see it was not too far in front of him. He didn't want to let go of the palm tree, but he knew the only way to the water was to let go. He staggered forward, falling once and with great difficulty, got up and finally made it to the shallow stream of water. This time he allowed himself to just fall down and let the brook move around his body, its water was cool and it felt so good. He took a careful sip and was relieved to find it had no salt taste at all ... it seemed like it was safe to drink. He knew better than to drink all he wanted, but instead just took small, careful sips. He didn't remember falling asleep again, but when he woke up the sun had moved to almost overhead again. He pulled himself carefully further up the stream until trees shaded him. Once more, the exertion of the move made him pass out.
It was late afternoon again when he woke up. He was shivering from being wet and having a breeze blowing over his wet body. He crawled to the edge of the stream and was pleased to find that movement seemed to be easier. His body still ached, but the intense pain of the other day was slowly passing. He propped himself up against a tree and the late afternoon sun warmed his body. As he sat there watching the sun slip into the golden sea until finally it dropped from sight, he started to remember more of the events leading to his falling into the sea. He recalled the two pirate ships bearing down on his vessel. He then recalled, when he asked the captain what to do, how the captain had fled the deck and locked himself in his quarters. He remembered the men looking at him and asking him what to do ... and with that recollection, he remembered his position on the ship had been that of first mate.
More memories flowed and he recalled his ship. With the memories of his ship came the memories and his first impressions of the captain; Captain Stephen Merick. Merick was a small man - both in stature and in character. A man with so many of the quirks very small men seem to posses; driven, egocentric, with no sense to humor. To his way of thinking, Merick represented everything wrong with the current system of promotions. Merick's father was very wealthy and had many friends in the admiralty. When it came time, his father had pulled the right strings, greased the proper palms and suddenly Stephan Merick had his own ship. The fact he was unfit for command didn't seem to matter a whit ... a promise was kept and a debt of honor was fulfilled ... far more important than the lives of the crew of a ship.
As he leaned against the tree, the memories of the voyage seemed to flow like liquid from a bottle that has had the cork removed. He could tell Captain Merick felt threatened by him from the first day the little man stepped aboard the vessel. The first mate had worked his way through the ranks, having signed on as a cabin boy at the tender age of 11 and through the years had worked his way up to first-mate,
Merick knew from his first day aboard the vessel the first mate should have been the captain. In addition, Merick probably knew he had no business trying to skipper a ship due to his lack of abilities. The men looked up to the first mate and held contempt for Merick; from the cabin boy up through all of the junior officers, all could feel his ineptness. With the launching of the ship, the H. M. S. Elizabeth, everybody had assumed it was supposed to have been the first mate's ship, but politics had aced him out. When he thought the whole thing over, he really was not that bitter ... or at least not as bitter as the crew had been.
The fateful afternoon a few days ago had started innocently enough. A ship had rounded the end of an island and when the new vessel saw The Elizabeth, the other craft ran up the Union Zack on the flagpole. Merick had instructed one of the crew to dip their colors to show respect and once their flag was back at full mast, the other ship cut had down their Union Zack and replaced it with a Skull & Cross bones pennant. The first mate had been standing next to Merick when the other ship raised the pirate symbol and he had heard the captain mutter, "What the bloody hell is that?
"It's a pirate flag, sir." The first mate retorted; insolence dripping from the word "sir".
"I know that" Merick snapped back, "but what's it doing flying aboard that vessel?"
The first mate made no effort to hide the contempt he now had in his voice. "It's a pirate ship Captain Merick. They intend to fight us. What are your orders?"
"What do you think we should do?" His voice was almost a whisper ... a frightened whisper.
The first mate recalled how shocked he had been by the captain's comment. "Excuse me? You are asking me what to do? Sir, may I remind you, you are the captain." The first mate had replied in complete shock.
"Yes, but this wasn't covered in school ... I mean, what are we supposed to do now?"
"School? You really have no clue what to do ... do you?" The disdain showing plainly in the first mates voice.
"Help me ... what should we do ... would it help to surrender?" Captain Merick whined.
Contempt laced each word as the first mate addressed the captain. "No captain, we are supposed to fight. Do you really want to give up your ship? A brand new vessel without a fight?"
"Can you tell me what to tell the men to do?" Merick whispered to the first mate.
"Captain Merick, you have gone out of your way to make this voyage a nightmare for me; and now we are facing a pirate ship and you are asking me what to do?" The first mate took a step back and asked, "Sir, are you surrendering your command?" Derision in each word as he spoke to the cowering captain.
"No!" The captain paused for a moment, "Well, yes ... ah no ... ah yes..."
"Which is it Captain?" The first mate snapped back.
At that moment, a voice rang out from the top sails, "Sail ho..."
"What flag does she carry?' The captain shouted back.
There was a pause while the look out peered through his telescope. Finally his voice ran out, "It's another pirate ship ... they have us boxed in."
The captain let out a small cry, then turned and fled the deck. The first mate could hear the captain running down the stairs and through the passage way all the way to his cabin. After a short time the first mate heard the door slam shut to the captain's quarters leaving the first mate alone with the crew to deal with two pirate ships.
In an instant the first mate understood the captain was going to be of no help; the first mate was now on his own.