Chapter 7: Naval Matters

"My, my," said Madam Von R--, "you must have been on your best behavior. The lady has nothing but praise for you and would like to borrow you and the carriage again on Sunday. Can you manage that?" She lifted an eyebrow.

"Might fit it into my busy schedule," I said.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"All of that," I said as my prod tingled hopefully.

I arrived at the proper house, as instructed, on a bright and chilly Sunday morning, cleanly shaved and neatly dressed. The stately woman appeared in traveling costume with a frilly girl at her side. I bowed to them both as I held the door aside.

"This Mary Elizabeth," said Mrs. T--. "She is my niece, my late husband's elder brother's child who has been visiting here and there." The girl curtsied at me and smiled warmly, playing the coquette. She was an over-ripe thirteen or a slowly developing sixteen, ready to pluck my comrades would have noted, ripe enough, a pretty little thing in a very low-cut but overly-ornate dress and foolishly-beribboned bonnet.

The women stepped up and arranged their clothes and, in time, I delivered them at the waterfront where they were met, after a short wait, by a young naval officer who doffed his hat, made a leg and glared at me. He escorted them to a gig with a half dozen uniformed oarsmen, and off they went toward a black-sided ship anchored well off the island. "We are in for a day of navy frivolity," the woman had told me as we awaited her escort.

"Oh yes," said the young girl, "music and dancing and a fine meal."

The lieutenant who met them did not strike me as the frivolous type but that was hardly my affair. I found a nearby hostler to look after the team and headed for the nearest tavern. Several beers later, a group of tars entered and took a table near me. As they drank and laughed and pinched the tavern girls, I could hardly help but overhear the main topic of their conversation. I took up my beer and went to their table, plunked down a crown before the bearded one who seemed to be their leader and said, "That's for a round and a question, if you will?"

He made the coin disappear and looked at me coldly.

"Heard you discussing a pair of women you rowed out to that ship," I said.

"Wot of it?" he asked as the others leaned back quietly.

"I brought them here," I said, "wondered how long they might be out there?"

"Haw," he laughed, "'Ard t'tell. Les' see," he counted on his fingers. "If the doctor joins, it's ten a'them," he scratched his head. "Some a them friggin' midshipmen might get it up two or three times, eh Charlie?"

Charlie nodded and smiled at me.

"Y'eard a'floggin' around the fleet, mate?" the sailor asked me.

I nodded.

"Well this 'ere some calls fuckin' round the wardroom."

I looked at him blankly I suppose.

"There's the cap'n hissef," he said, "four lieutenants including the firs' mate, three midshipmen; that's eight ain'? An' the doctor and the master. That makes ten."

"And?" I asked.

"They's goin' to swive them birds, one right ater t'other, there in the cap'n's cabin, goin' about the big table I 'spect, takin' turns, 'till they's plum wore out or the decanters is empty."

I waited, trying not to show my anger.

"Might take two or three hours, mate," he said. "We had four girls out there las' Sunday. Y'should'a heerd 'em squeal. Young 'uns they was, like that pink one y'brought t'day, but I fink they was all friskers."

I thought of Mary Elizabeth, assumed she was a virgin and in danger of losing her cherry in a most unfortunate manner. For some reason, I felt responsible having delivered them to the navy.

"Thank you," I said and went back to my own table, ignoring the crude laughs behind me. I downed my beer and went outside quickly. A short way down the pier, I saw a small rowboat tied to a piling, clambered down, freed it and set out for the big ship, not a single plan in my head but the image of the woman's lush body and youngster's pink lips in my mind.

It probably took me the best part of a half-hour to row out under the stern of the two-decker. From the open windows of the cabin above, I could hear laughter and an occasion cheer. I was obviously too late. I sat and debated, ashamed of myself and angry at my inability to help the women, one of whom screeched loudly from twenty feet above me.

I heard an outraged voice that I was sure was that of Constance T--, and then there came a crashing shattering of glass, and a window frame and flailing body plunged into the bay right before me, spraying me and my little boat. The body had been at least partially clothed and wearing skirts, my mind said, as I pulled off my boots and dove into the murky sea.

The girl came up, gasping and spitting water, and I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her toward my small craft. The sounds of cursing and laughter came from the windows above, but I do not think anyone there could have seen the girl hit the water nor could have noted my presence because of the curve of the ship's afterhull and high poop.

I pushed the struggling girl to the side of the boat and got her to hold on, swung myself aboard and then pulled the drenched and shocked young woman into the boat and patted her bare back. She lay, curled up in the water sloshing across the bottom of the rowboat, naked to the waist, weeping. After minute or so, I pulled her up and plunked her down on the seat, facing me.

"You!" she said. "Aunt Constance said... , " she blubbered, letting her head droop down toward her apple-sized breasts with their rose-bud tips.

I patted her back and moved to sit beside her, putting my arm about her slim shoulders, feeling her gooseflesh. Her torn shift hung about her hips and her tiny set of stays sat, half-unlaced, about her trim waist.

"You've got to get her out of there," the girl said. "Please, you must. They made us suck them and now they're getting ready to poke her, all of them." She wiped her soft mouth with the back of her hand. "They were going to tie me to the table." She moaned again, her lithe body shaking.

"Don't see how I can," I told her.

"There aren't many men up there now, maybe six or seven," she said. "Just the officers, and they're all busy poking her by now. Two passed out."

I had seen a rope ladder dangling as I neared the big ship, but I had also noted two sailors lounging near the top of it. I rowed to the place where I could see the other side of the black-sided ship and spotted several ropes hanging there, their ends almost in the water. Probably for hoisting supplies on board, I assumed.

I tied my little craft to the anchor chain, gave the shivering girl my drenched shirt, told her to wait for me unless she heard me yell out for her to row, promised to do my best, swam three strokes, grabbed a rope and clambered up the wooden side of the ship to the first open gunport. I let myself in and made my way back toward the stern, squishing along in my bare feet, head bent low, mounted a ladder and followed the sounds of carousing.

Just outside the captain's cabin, I found a Marine guard leaning back, his eyes closed and his bayonet tipped musket braced between his legs. I put my hand over his mouth, pushed him hard against the bulkhead and drove my big blade through the middle of his chest and upward. He inhaled sharply and then sank to the deck. I checked to see that his weapon was primed.

I sheathed my knife, hoisted my borrowed musket, kicked in the door forgetting I had no boot on, and stepped into the big after cabin which had been cleared except for a long table and a set of chairs. Bent over the table at the left end, her wrists tied and fasted to a bolt in the tabletop, lay Constance, looking up at me, her dress turned back over her wide hips and her long hair wildly awry. Standing behind her was young naval officer who was busily ramming his cock into her, his eyes closed in pleasure, her hips in his hands. I resisted the temptation to shoot him. Instead I quickly looked about, decided who was the captain, pushed two astonished men aside in the crowded space and put the tip of the bayonet at his chest within two seconds. Surprise was on my side.

"Sir," I said, getting my back to the widows and noting that one was missing, "you command here?"

He nodded as the uniformed man pulled himself out of the squirming women and fumbled with his clothes, red-faced.

"Send these people away," I ordered. Constance looked up at me and sighed.

He nodded wordlessly and, one-by-one, they left, knuckling their foreheads or at least giving him a small bow as they did. The last to go was the young officer who had been busily swiving Constance when I entered. He was still doing his buttons as he exited.

"This is shameful, sir," I said, prodding him along toward the furious woman, whose eyes burned with hate. I cut her loose without losing sight of the captain's pale face, my spike bayonet at his heart, and resheathed my knife. The good woman stood, shook back her hair, took the rope from her wrist, straightened her lace-trimmed bodice, found her jacket and then poured herself some brandy and tossed it down.

"Now what?" she asked, seating herself and giving me a very small smile, looking as if this were an ordinary occasion, cool as ice, despite having been abused and raped. Her lips appeared bruised and swollen and a small bruise discolored one cheek. She fluffed out the lace at her elbows.

"Now he orders up his gig and his rowers, and we go ashore in style, madam, you, me, the girl and the captain."

"We do?" she said, refilling her glass and lifting an arched eyebrow. "How pleasant."

"Or his bright naval career ends right here, on this fine piece of British steel." I poked him.

"Bos'n," the captain cried loudly, and very quickly a sailor appeared, looking meek indeed.

"Sir," he said, taking a quick look about, "there's a dead Marine 'ere in the passageway, carved open 'e is."

"Have my boat lowered. Be quick about it. I'm going ashore."

"Aye," the man said, ducking out and closing the door soundlessly.

"Well disciplined," I said.

He nodded and took a breath, the first I had noticed him taking since I got to him. I became, if anything, more alert, concentrating on what to do next.

"Our choices," I said to the lovely woman whose breathing was becoming more regular and slow, "are to go with this man, trust that he wants to live, or you can jump into the sea and join the girl in the rowboat just below."

She nodded, looking much calmer than I felt.

"I'm not much of a swimmer," she said. "And this was a new dress."

"Was this his doing?" I asked her, giving him another poke.

"I don't think so, although he certainly enjoyed himself. It was his first mate who invited us here, and it was he who planned to deflower the girl. He claimed the privilege."

"Get him here," I said to the captain.

"Bos'n," he called again. The sailor appeared, avoiding my eyes. "My compliments to Mr. Archer. Tell him to report here at once." It was as if I, despite my musket and bayonet, did not exist.

"Aye, sir," the young sailor said and vanished after sneaking a look at the seated woman who sat with her ankles crossed, sipping her drink.

The officer was there in minute or two, knocked, entered and stood at attention.

"This one?" I asked the woman.

She nodded, and I swung the musket up and smashed its butt into the man's jaw, probably breaking it and knocking out several teeth. He fell back across the table with his hands to his face, blubbering and bleeding.

"Get on your knees," I yelled at him, getting the bayonet back where I wanted it, on the captain's chest.

He slumped down, dripping blood and knelt, facing me.

"Turn around," I said, and he did in the narrow space available so his head was toward the women's knees.

"Beg her forgiveness," I said, and he raised his head and mumbled something, dribbling blood.

"Captain," I said, pushing him back to the bulkhead, "do not do anything foolish if you want to live. Dead heroes are not promoted."

He nodded.

"Back up and sit over there," I said, gesturing to the far end of the table. He did as he was told.

"Did you understand him?" I asked the stately woman.

She shook her head, looking disgusted.

I poked the kneeling man in the buttocks with my spike bayonet, hard enough to bring blood. "Again, beg forgiveness," I demanded.

He looked up and said, "Sorry" and something else.

I rammed eighteen inches of three-edged steel up his rectum. He screamed. I twisted the musket to release the imbedded spike and withdrew the weapon. I clamped on my own bayonet while the man screamed, wailed and writhed. When his buttocks were turned toward me, it kicked the bayonet fitting hard, and he passed out, his head up against a table leg, legs splayed like a spaniel. I wished I had not done it since I was still barefoot.