Morgan on the Spanish Main

The ship sailed through another storm, the force of which was not so strong as the one endured on the Mourning Dove, but the gales were sufficient to keep all hands on deck through the night. Morgan had been stirred from her sleep in the early hours of the morning, and heard the Captain's voice shouting orders to the crew. She again slipped off to slumber, and arose to a bright sun. Her body reminded her of the necessity of the trip 'round the gallery, and she slipped on her dress and slippers. As she rounded the stern, she peered through the window, and saw no one. She quickly passed by the windows and arrived at the small platform with the hole that opened to the sea below. After taking care of her need, she walked back across the stern, enjoying the scent of the sea and the brilliance of the rising sun. As she passed by the windows, she glanced inside, and froze.

The only part of the cabin she could not see by peering around the corner of the stern was the Captain's bed, but from her current vantage point, she could see it well. She could also see the Captain, lying naked in the sleep brought on by the exhaustion of the night before.

Morgan had never before seen a naked man. The only knowledge she posessed of the personal areas of a man's body had been learned from Penelope on those occasions when her tongue wagged with the ease created by wine, and Morgan had never taken them seriously. She could not believe Penelope's descriptions of the anatomy of men nor her seemingly authoritative statements of various sizes. Yet, here was a naked man in her full view, and the stature of his manhood was in keeping with the rest of his person. He lay on his back with legs spread, and the large organ was draped over one thigh. The dark bush of hair on his belly was much larger than Morgan's, she thought, but seemed to fit. As he lay sleeping, the organ began to swell, and as she watched, it rose to stand straight up from his loins, the head extending out of its sheath and becoming dark purple. Then, it slowly lowered itself back to it's position over the thigh. She stared at his broad chest and hard belly as they rose and fell with the regular rhythm of his breathing. The Captain stirred, then rolled to his side, his back to the window, and Morgan saw the hard buttocks and legs laced with the cords of muscle and sinew. His back was roped with more muscle, and as he moved, she saw the bulges ripple under the dark skin. Morgan became aware of the pounding heart in her chest and realized she had been holding her breath. She tried to avoid gasping as she hurried across the stern and back to the cabin to find Penelope.

"Penelope, you told me about men, about their...manhood. Does it ever grow of its own volition?"

"Well, yes it does, if the man has not been with a woman for a while. Why do you ask?"

"On my way back across the gallery, I saw the Captain, through the window. He was asleep on his bed...naked, and as I watched, his organ rose up in the air. It stayed that way for a bit, and then fell back down. Why would it do that?"

"Well, my child, men dream about women, sometimes, and their...organs grow just as if they were with a woman. Sometimes, if it has been a long time, the man will spit his seed before the hardness subsides. It's perfectly normal, and only indicates that the man needs a woman."

"Penelope, how is it that you are so versed in the ways of men and women? You have never, to my knowledge, taken a husband, nor have you ever even been seen in the company of a man."

Penelope contemplated the question for a few moments, and then took a deep breath, as if preparing for some difficult task.

"Considering our circumstances, and considering that you are a young woman, I may as well tell you my tale. Come sit beside me, that I may talk quietly. We do not know who may be listening, and what I am going to tell you could endanger my safety."

"When I was your age, I lived in the countryside, next to the moors, on my fathers farm. I hated life on the farm, I hated the hard work, and as I watched my mother grow older and weaker each year with no reward save continuing life, I made up my mind that I would not suffer the same fate. I took three hens, and fled to London to seek my future, thinking to hire myself to a seamstress or perhaps to be the maid to a rich lady. When I arrived in the city, I found that employment was difficult to acquire, as I had no reference other than my promise to perform my duties with determination."

"I had sold the hens for a little money, but in a day this was gone, and I was faced with starving. I sat on a street corner that night, with no place to sleep, and tearfully considered my future. As I sat, miserable in the damp and cool night, a carriage stopped beside me. A woman's voice called to me, and as I rose, the door opened. Inside the leather upholstered carriage was a pretty woman, all dressed in red silk and satin, and the carriage had fresh roses in the vases on the doorposts. The woman introduced herself as Miss Jennifer Singleton, and bade me get in. She asked my tale, and I related my short adventure. As I finished, I began to weep, and Miss Singleton took me in her arms. She assured me that I was safe for the night, and took me to her home. In a short time, I was fed a good supper, then washed in the most wonderful scented water, and Miss Singleton tucked me into bed between clean white sheets."

"When I woke, the next morning, Miss Singleton brought me tea and breakfast. As I ate, she explained that she was a business woman, but when she explained her business, I nearly choked on my toast. Miss Singleton employed several women to serve as concubines to wealthy men. The men would come to her house, pick out their companion of the evening, and, after paying the required amount, would retire with the young lady to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Miss Singleton explained in great detail what acts were committed in those rooms, some of which gave me chills, and then offerred to give me similar employment. What was I to do? I had no money, no place to stay, and no way to go home. I accepted her offer, and began life as a lady of pleasure."

"I rather enjoyed my new trade, after the first few times. Men can be so stupid, and it became easy to exhaust my partner of the evening quickly, and then go to sleep. Usually, I had to perform again at least once, but the work was easy and the payment rich. Only once did I fail to use the lambskin, and that was my undoing. The gentleman was insistent that we "gallop bareback", as he called it, and for a few additional Shillings, I agreed. Two weeks later, I learned the folly of this act, as my flow did not come on time. After another month, it was still absent, and I asked Miss Singleton what would become of me."

Miss Singleton set aside bedchambers for me on the top floor, and I spent the next seven months awaiting the birth. Miss Singleton had arranged with a childless couple to take the child, and when I delivered, the baby was whisked away before I saw its face or knew if it were boy or girl. I was recovering quickly, in body if not in mind, but I was filled with milk and my breasts were very painful. Miss Singleton learned of a man whose wife had given him a daughter, but who had died a few days later. She spoke to him, and he hired me as a wet nurse for the baby girl. Morgan, that man was your father. I came to live with you as wet nurse, and later became your nanny."

"So, you see, I have had more experiences with men than most women, and I know truths about men that they would rather be left untold. I am not ashamed of my past, but I would not return to it. You became the child that I lost, and I soon found that I could not leave you."

The days passed quickly, and Morgan became more at ease with her situation. She no longer peered around the end of the stern before taking her morning ease, and began to wish the Captain would still be asleep so that she could examine him closer. On the rare days that fortune shined on her, and she was able to see him, a strange thrill came over her. As the days went by, other feelings began to enter her mind, feelings that were unknown to her before this time. On the mornings when she watched the Captain in slumber, she felt her breasts swell, the nipples rising and becoming rigid. If she brushed them through her dress, a tingle ran through her body to settle deep inside her belly with a tightening feeling. Morgan found that she would experience the same feeling if she thought of the sight while in her cabin, and began to experiment with the sensations even though Penelope was asleep at her side. On one such occasion, she was caressing her breast with one hand, and the other involuntarily slipped over her soft belly and touched her soft pouting lips. The sensation was more than Morgan could stand while remaining silent, and a soft moan escaped her lips. Penelope rose, smiling at the young girl, and Morgan stopped immediately in shame.

"Now, now, my child. . The sight of our dashing, young Captain has stirred these feelings, as it would with most women, including myself. Nothing is wrong with you, and your actions are normal for a girl your age. I sometimes have those feelings, and satisfy them myself, so do not be ashamed. It is pleasureable, is it not?"

Morgan nodded, struck by this new revelation by Penelope.

"It is much better with a man between your legs, but your fingers will suffice, if you have the knowledge. Would you wish me to teach you?"

Morgan could only nod again, as she was too overcome with surprise to speak.

Penelope raised on one elbow, and lifted Morgan's nightdress to her throat. As Morgan lay naked before her, Penelope gently caressed Morgan's firm breast, then stroked the rigid nipple. At Morgan's gasp, Penelope giggled, and said, "My, you are a ripe young lady, and fit to burst. Pay careful attention, and I will show you how wonderful you may feel when the bursting comes."

Her hand slowly slipped over Morgan's chest, down the soft belly with its barely visible downy hairs, through the ginger curls and then over her swollen lips. Penelope's soft fingers gently stroked over the outside of the soft petals, and Morgan moaned again.

"These are the petals of your flower, my sweet, but the honey is to be found deeper inside."

Penelope slipped a fingertip between the lips, causing Morgan to spread her thighs wide. As she did so, her lips opened fully, and the softer, wrinkled inner lips began to protrude in passion. Penelope touched a fingertip to her tongue, said "mmmm", and then stroked these newfound delights. Morgan moaned again, louder this time.

"A man would love these inner delights, and worship your scent and taste. You have a very beautiful flower, Morgan, a very beautiful flower, and I see that the bud is growing. This bud is the center of a woman's passion, and is the secret to the wonderful feeling. Concentrate on this feeling, and you will know great pleasure."

Penelope's fingertip brushed gently to one side of the swelling nub, and Morgan's hips immediately shot off the bed. As she stayed arched, the finger continued it's gentle massage. Morgan relaxed, but now, her breathing was faster and a bit raspy, Penelope moved the finger inside Morgan's wet pulsating passage, and used her thumb to continue the soft rubbing motion.

"Don't worry, dear child, I'll not push so far as to damage your maidenhead. That pleasure shall be left for some fortunate man."

Morgan did not hear the last words, for her mind was on only the feelings caused by Penelope's fingertips. She did not know when her hand found her right nipple and began to tug and roll it gently, nor was she aware when Penelope's lips found the left nipple and began to suckle. Her existence was centered on the feelings in her body, and the rapidly building tension she felt in her belly. Morgan's hips slowly began to rise from the sheets, arching higher and higher until the first wave of release swept over her. With a gasp, she thrust against Penelope's hand, sighed heavily, and then, with a small cry, arched high off the bed, her hips rocking up and down as wave after wave washed from her toes, through her rippling belly, and finally crashed down in her mind. She fell back to the bed, and squeezed Penelope's hand between her silken thighs. After a few moments, her deep blue eyes opened and found themselves looking into Penelope's smiling face. She smiled back, and then stretched her body to it's full length.

"Penelope, that was the most wonderful feeling I have ever experienced. Is it always so wonderful?"

"Yes, but it can be better with a man, if the man is skilled in the ways of a woman, and if the woman feels for him."

Morgan sighed once more, and was asleep. She awoke, refreshed, and somehow changed. She no longer feared the Captain; instead, she became intensely curious.

No opportunity arose for her secret examination of him for a few days, although Morgan made good use of her recent instruction. She was sure that Penelope knew, but her companion did not touch her again.

One fine morning, Morgan crossed the stern to relieve herself, and upon rising to return, saw a sail in the distance. At the same time, a lookout spoke the sighting, and she heard the padding of feet on deck. As she passed the stern windows, she saw the Captain striding from his cabin, telescope in hand. She had barely returned when the cabin door opened, and the Captain appeared.

"We are being overtaken by a Spanish brigantine, and she means to send us to the bottom. Stay in your cabin, for you will surely be injured should you go on the gallery. The Spanish have no love for the English, as you know, and will not treat you in so grand a manner as I, so entertain no thoughts of escape."

The events that followed were a twin to that which Morgan had experienced on the Mourning Dove. The cannon boomed, over and over, and then the brig shook as the hulls crunched together. The same screams and shouts were heard overhead, and the same sickening odors permeated the cabin. At last the sounds of the battle began to ebb, and Morgan and Penelope awaited the outcome. They heard grunts and scuffling mixed with the icy, metallic crash of steel against steel, grow closer and closer. Suddenly, the cabin door burst open, and the Captain fell through. He was followed by a Spanish officer wielding a saber, and narrowly missed being thrust through. The Captain was quick, however, and rolled to his feet, catching and deflecting the thrust with the hilt of the dagger in his left hand. He returned the thrust with his cutlass, but the officer neatly parried the stroke with a sweep that threw the weapon from the Captain's hand. Another slash of the sword, and the Captain dropped the dagger from his bleeding fingers. As the Spanish officer began to approach, the Captain retreated until the bulkhead stopped his motions. The Spanish officer, now standing between Morgan and the Captain, said something with a vehement tone, and drew his arm to impale the Captain.

Without thinking, Morgan picked up the Captain's dagger, lunged at the Spanish officer, and plunged it into his back with all the force she could muster. The man screamed a scream made silent by the dagger piercing his lung, and collapsed in throes of agony on the floor. In a short while, his struggle ceased, and with a gurgling sigh, he died.

Morgan stood, staring at the dying man until he stopped moving, and then looked at the Captain. He was bleeding from slashes on his breast, belly, and his right arm and hand. Telling Penelope to fetch the water pitcher, Morgan ripped the skirt from her dress, tore it into strips and began attempting to stanch the flow of blood. When Penelope arrived with the water, she carefully washed away the blood and dirt to examine the wounds. She found them to be deep cuts, but none had penetrated through to the inside, nor had any cut through bone or sinew. She asked, "Do you have rum?", to which the Captain nodded and pointed through the open door to his cabin. Penelope went without being asked, and returned shortly with the bottle.

"This will hurt, but you must have it", said Morgan, and poured the golden liquid into each cut. The Captain winced, but made no sound. Morgan tore more of the dress into pads and bound each wound. When she had finished she sat back on her heels to examine her work, and found the Captain's eyes boring into hers.

She did not speak; she did not know what to say. She was saved from the embarassment of a long silence by the bald man from the Mourning Dove.

"Captain, we are victorious. The last Spaniard has been thrown over the side. What are we to do with the brigantine?"

The Captain rose slowly, and then ordered, "Take off her guns, ball, and powder, and anything else of value, and then send her to the bottom."

The bald man eyed the women and the Captain carefully, then said, "Aye, Sir", and left.

The Captain sagged against the bulkhead, the wounds finally taking their toll on his strength.

"I must get to my cabin. The crew cannot see me in this condition. The mate will have told them that I am weakened and they may decide to take the ship from me. If they should, your lives will be worth nothing."

Morgan and Penelope each took an arm over their shoulders and helped the Captain across the short distance to his cabin.

"Put me in the chair behind the table", he said, and they lowered hin to the seat.

"Get a shirt from that chest, and help me put it on." They quickly complied.

"Now, the pistols and the two large muskets from the bulkhead case." The weapons were soon on the table before him.

In a few moments, the Captain sat at his chart table, dressed in a clean shirt, and looking as if nothing had happened, and was heavily armed to repel an attack.

"Now, go back to your cabin, and close the door as best you can. If you can block it closed, do so."

They rushed back to the cabin, pulled the door shut despite the bent and broken hinges, and drug the body of the dead officer up against the foot. It was the best they could do, and they waited, breathless, for what would transpire next. They had not long to wait.

Footsteps pattered down the companionway and an angry sounding murmer came with the footsteps. They heard the Captain's door slam open and then his voice boomed through the opening.

"What manner of entry is this. This cabin belongs to me, your Captain, and no man shall enter unless given permission. Explain yourselves this instant and I may decide to spare your lives."

"We want the women", they heard a voice say, to which the Captain replied, "The women's fate shall be decided by myself alone. Return to your quarters."

They heard a shout as the mob started forward, and then the loud crack of the musket. Men screamed in agony, and they heard the second musket discharge. There were more screams, and then a few footsteps running back down the companionway. They waited for half an hour before dragging the body away from the door and venturing through the opening.

Dead sailors lay on the floor, in the doorway, and as they progressed through the Captains doorway, they saw more on the floor there. The Captain was sitting, a pistol in each hand, but was very pale. They heard more footsteps, and the Captain motioned them to the chairs against the bulkhead.

"Captain, permission to speak with you?"

"Enter."

"Captain, what would you have us do? There are nine of us left, plus the cook."

"Take everything off the Spaniard save a barrel of powder and set a slow fuse. Set the jib and main, and make sail for Terriva. Then get these dead bastards out of the cabins and over the side. Since the mates chose to lead the mutiny and are now dead, you shall oversee these tasks, and a mate's share of the cargo shall be yours. Tell the others that any more attempts at mutiny will find them feeding the sharks along with this lot. I shall hold the captives until we arrive; since we are few, they may attempt to escape. Have the cook bring their meals with mine to my cabin. Now, look lively, before I have need to find another mate."