Setting Sail on a Black Sea Ch. 01

"Nice work today lads," he told them proudly. "We showed those Spaniards how to fight!"

"Thanks Cap'n," they said as they grinned at him.

"When you're done here, would you be a good couple of fellows, and bring over the trunks from the guest cabin on the merchantman? Our passenger will be requiring her possessions," he ordered them with a smile.

"Of course Cap'n, right away, Sir!" they replied, and immediately sheathed their cutlasses.

"Much obliged, lads," he said appreciatively, and then turned back to walk up the steps onto the quarterdeck.

This area of the ship was deserted at the moment, with Dennings rounding up men for the prize crew, and Hastings still looting the merchantman. Matthew smiled with satisfaction at the day's events, and then frowned as he recalled Hastings' borderline insubordination. He wasn't above having a man flogged if the situation demanded it, but such events were always unpleasant, and best avoided wherever possible. In the case of his truculent Helmsman, Matthew feared that just such a punishment might be on the horizon for his cycloptic crewman for a second time, and his mouth twisted with distaste.

Matthew looked up at the wide open expansion of sky, still blue and featureless apart from the single large cloud that still slowly drifted nearby. He was surprised to see that it had not left them far behind by now, and he glanced up at the sails with alarm, fearing becoming becalmed. Fortunately the sails flapped animatedly in the breeze, and he smiled with relief. He walked over to the balustrade, and leaned on it as he watched his men work for a while, listening to their cheerful banter, and the occasional bawdy sea shanty. Morale seemed to be in fine shape aboard the Fortune, and he chuckled to himself when he thought how happy the crew would be when they divided the shares of today's haul.

In short order the cargo was transferred between the ships, and once the prize crew were safely aboard the merchantman, the sailors released the grappling hooks that were tying the vessels together. The Fortune slid away from the merchantman, and the ships held formation with the Santa Maria de la Rosa following behind, as they set sail for Port Royal.

Matthew strode along the short corridor to his cabin several hours later, and Christelle rose from the leather seat behind his desk when he entered the room. A quick glance told him that she'd been reading one of his books, a favourites of his by the look of it, and she smiled happily as he walked over to join her.

"Enjoying the devil's temptations, mademoiselle?" he asked her mischievously.

"Oh my, yes! The works of Christopher Marlowe are my favourite," she gushed enthusiastically. "Although this particular book was deemed sinful, and banned from our library at home," she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

She closed the book, and was about to return it to the bookshelf, when he placed his hand on the cover, holding it in place. "The trip to Martinique will only take a day, so I'm afraid you will be unlikely to finish it in time. Take the book as a gift, then you can read it at your leisure," he offered generously.

"Monsieur, you are too kind!" she exclaimed happily, and moved her slender hand to reopen the book once more.

Her fingertips brushed over the back of his hand, and the accidental touch made her catch her breath, and she looked up at him coyly for a moment. Matthew smiled back at her, and then removed his hand.

"I'll speak to our cook, Mr Fenchurch, and arrange for us to be brought some supper," and he turned to leave.

"Captain Taylor..." the young woman called after him tentatively, in her lilting French accent. "Where am I to sleep tonight?"

"You can take my bed. I'll keep watch over you from there," he said, nodding towards the comfortable padded chair behind the desk. "I trust my men, but with a young lady as beautiful as yourself aboard, I'm unwilling to take any chances."

"Merci, Matthew," she said, and they smiled at each other as he left the cabin.

He returned to the room a little while later, carefully balancing a tray in his right hand as he opened the door. Christelle looked up eagerly, feeling quite hungry, and the enticing aroma of a lamb stew wafted around the round as he brought the tray to his desk. He offered her some silver cutlery, and she smiled at him gratefully as she sat down in his chair behind the desk.

Matthew saw that she had an empty glass on the table, and the lack of telltale red staining let him know that she had been drinking water. "Would you care for some wine with your meal?" he asked her courteously, and she nodded with a smile of gratitude.

He strolled over to the decanter, and retrieved a couple of silver plated goblets, which he filled with the rich dark red liquid, before bringing them back and setting one on the table beside her plate. He put down his own goblet, and picked up his plate of food and a fork, then walked over to the window, to lean against the sill.

Christelle waited for him to start, and she took an experimental bite herself. "This stew is excellent, monsieur," she said, sighing happily.

"I'll pass on your compliments to Mr Fenchurch," Matthew replied with a grin. "He's been with us for several years, and having a skilled cook does wonders for the ships morale."

"How many years have you been a pirate?" she asked him curiously.

"I've been a... Privateer," he corrected her with a grin, "for six years."

"And what did the illustrious Captain Taylor do before he decided to sail the seven seas?" she asked him playfully.

"More sailing," he said with a laugh. "I joined his majesty's royal navy at fourteen, served ten years and then resigned my commission when my father passed away. I had no interest in running his estate, so I left that to my younger brother, and used my share of the inheritance to purchase this ship."

"And why would a man of means abandon that life to one of uncertainty, such as this?" Christelle asked him, looking around the cabin, her brief glance meant to encompass the entire ship.

"Sitting around getting fat, whilst living off the profits of my father's estate wasn't the life for me. I yearned for adventure!" he said, his light blue eyes sparkling.

Her musical laughter echoed around the room. "Then I believe we are kindred spirits, Matthew!" she said, as she smiled at him happily. "I'm enjoying my first adventure very much indeed."

They finished their dinner, and chatted amiably about the books in his extensive collection. Time seemed to fly by as they discussed their favourite authors, and with a start, he realised it was starting to get dark. He got up and lit a couple of lanterns, and the light from the wick illuminated the room in a warm orange glow.

"I'll take these back to the galley," he said, as he scooped up the plates and put them on the tray. "You should probably retire for the night," he added gently.

Christelle nodded shyly, and walked over to the trunks, which had been brought to the cabin as Matthew had requested. He left her to get ready for bed, then returned to Mr Fenchurch to return the plates. He passed on his guest's appreciation of their supper, and the jolly, rotund cook grinned at him happily.

Matthew decided to give the young woman plenty of time to settle herself, so he strode up the steps on the quarterdeck. Mr Hastings was not around thankfully, having changed shifts for the night. Instead Bill Crowthorn was manning the wheel of the Fortune, and the young man grinned exuberantly at his Captain when Matthew walked past him. Matthew nodded to the man with a smile. Bill was the youngest man aboard, aged only seventeen, and his cheerful optimism was always uplifting for the spirits.

The Captain looked ahead of them, and saw that it was cloudier now, and the wind had been picking up. The setting sun cast the sky in red hues, providing a dramatic background for the Santa Maria de la Rosa, which followed faithfully in the wake of the Fortune. He watched the sun set ahead of them as they sailed west, and stared up at the night's sky for some time, thinking about the events of the day.

"That's a curious cloud, Sir," Bill said to him, interrupting the companionable silence, as he looked off into the distance.

"What do you mean, lad?" Matthew asked him absent-mindedly.

"The high wind has the rest scurrying about the sky, but that one seems to be keeping pace with us," Bill said with a frown, brushing his tousled blonde hair out of his eyes.

Matthew turned to look where the young man was pointing, and spotted a large cumulous cloud off to their port side, illuminated by the moonlight. With a frown, Matthew thought it looked like the cloud he had seen earlier that day, then shook his head with a laugh. "The mind plays tricks on you out here, lad, pay it no mind," Matthew said with a chuckle.

"As you say, Captain," the young man replied, but he continued to glance at the cloud suspiciously.

Matthew grinned at the lad's antics, and then headed down the steps to return to his cabin. He opened the door carefully, making sure that it didn't squeak to loudly, and he saw that there was now just one lantern still burning, casting flickering shadows about the room. When he glanced at his bed, he could see that Christelle was now tucked up under the covers, turned away from him.

He crept across the room to avoid waking her, then quietly doused the last lantern. He sat in his comfortable chair, leaned back, and put his boots up on the desk, crossing them comfortably.

"Goodnight, monsieur," the young woman said to him softly, her voice drifting across the room to him.

"Sleep well, ma chère," he replied, and smiled as he closed his eyes.

***

The creak of floorboards woke him some time later in the night, and his eyes snapped open warily, his hand automatically moving to the flintlock at his belt. He trusted his men, but a wary Captain was a long lived Captain. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the furtive figure stepped forward into the pale moonlight from the window, and with a start, he realised it was Christelle.

His eyes went wide as he saw that she was nude, and he drank in her slim lithe body as she glided over to him. "I was feeling scared and lonely, Matthew. Your bed is so big for just little old me. What would you suggest we do to ease my fears?" she asked him coyly as she held out her hand.

"I'd be a terrible host if I didn't do something to address that, mademoiselle," he said, as he stood, and took her hand.

She smiled, and looked up at him under hooded lashes, before she turned, and led him back to the bed. He watched the delightful sway of her hips, and the rounded curve of her bottom as she walked, before she turned to face him. She helped him shrug off his brocaded jacket and waistcoat, then peeled off his silk shirt. When his chest was bare, she ran her hands over it, the touch of her fingers electrifying as they brushed over his muscles appreciatively.

He reached out with his hand, to tilt up her face so that she looked up at him, and leaned in to kiss her. She parted her lips and he pressed his against them, softly at first, and then more insistently. Christelle let out a little gasp as he brushed his hands over her breasts, the pliant flesh filling his grasp comfortably. He massaged her carefully, while gently rubbing his thumbs over her nipples which hardened to erect points.

She broke away from him, then climbed onto the bed, and glanced at him over her shoulder with an alluring look in her eye as she crawled to the middle. He removed his pistol from his belt as he unbuckled it, and after pulling off his boots, he removed the last of his clothes before moving to join her.

Christelle knelt in the middle of the bed, and watched him with a sultry smile, as he climbed on it after her. When he reached the young woman, and sat down facing her, she approached him silently, and straddled his legs. She stared into his eyes as she pressed her chest against his, and she let out a gasp when he reached behind her to feel the cheeks of her bottom, cupping them in his strong hands.

"Let me reward you for your chivalry, Matthew," she purred to him, and raised herself up slightly so that she was aligned with him.

He helped support her weight as she sank down on his length, and her eyes were wide with arousal as she gazed at him in the moonlit room. Christelle began to move, rocking her hips back and forth as she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. She stared down at him with her lusty green eyes as she massaged his cock, and her lips were slightly parted as she moaned breathily. They moved together, slowly at first, and then with more passion as they worked in a harmonious rhythm. He could feel the toned muscles in her young body as she writhed in his lap, and he delighted in the feel of her wonderfully smooth skin under his fingertips.

Christelle began to pant, as her body was covered with a sheen of perspiration, and she pushed him onto his back so that she could ride him more easily. He watched entranced as she sat astride him, looking up at her beautiful face, with her black hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She ground her pelvis into his as she writhed in place, and he felt her began to move more erratically as she rode him to the finish. He reached up to hold her breasts in his hands, and she leaned her weight against his supportive arms, her hips a blur as she stroked his cock inside her. Suddenly she arched her back and cried out with passion as she climaxed, and seeing the girl taking such delight in their union, whilst hearing her feminine moans, proved to be the trigger for him too.

He came hard inside her welcoming body, and she gasped as she felt him shooting his cum into her. She rocked gently now, murmuring to him in her native tongue as she urged him to fill her up. Finally he was done, and she leaned down, resting her pert breasts against his chest, as she stared into his eyes from inches away.

"Do you still feel fearful and lonely, Christelle?" he asked her with a playful smile, as he wrapped her in his arms.

She giggled with amusement, and shook her head emphatically. "No monsieur, you have been a wonderful host," she replied with a grin.

He held her for a while, and she lay against him with a happy smile on her lovely face, as she looked up at him with her bewitching green eyes. They eventually separated, and then lay back on the bed under the covers. He smiled at her as she cuddled up under his arm, and it wasn't long before he could hear her breathing deepen as she fell fast asleep. Matthew smiled at the young woman affectionately, and enjoyed the feelings of protectiveness he felt, as he encircled her with his arm. He closed his eyes, and soon began to slumber himself.

***

The next day passed in a blur. Matthew got up early and secured breakfast for himself and his lovely young guest, then left the Captain's Cabin to make sure that all was well with his crew. The Fortune was making strong headway, and the Santa Maria de la Rosa was still following faithfully behind them.

One of the perks of being the Captain, was not having to answer to anyone aboard the ship, and once his duties were done, he spent the rest of the day in Christelle's delightful company. They chatted together like old friends, sharing their hopes and dreams, or discussing their interests, such as a love of a good book. She also seemed to enjoy his muscular body as much as he relished her yielding young flesh, and they spent as much time in bed together as possible.

It was late in the evening, around ten o'clock, when there came a polite knock on the door.

"We're nearing Martinique, Captain, what are you orders?" Bill, the young night watchman said respectfully.

"One moment, lad," Matthew said, and he vaulted out of bed, quickly putting on his trousers and shirt. Christelle giggled softly and hid under the covers.

Matthew opened the door to his cabin, and looked out into the corridor beyond, to see Bill's eager young face staring at him.

"Rouse Mr Hastings, and have him bring us close to the harbour, but out of sight of the garrison or the fort," he ordered. "I intend to drop off our guest by longboat."

"Very good, Captain," the young man replied immediately before he hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind at the last moment.

"What is it lad? Speak up," Matthew asked him encouragingly.

"That cloud is back," Bill said cautiously, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

"Have you been overdoing it with the Rum? You might end up tripping over your feet, and falling overboard. Not a wise thing to do!" Matthew said, as he let out a hearty laugh.

Bill flushed with embarrassment, and he turned to leave, but hesitated a moment as though wanting to say more.

"I'll come and have a look. Sorry for jesting with you, lad," Matthew said kindly.

The young man smiled up at his Captain gratefully, and then turned to stride down the corridor. Matthew let out a final chuckle, which he kept quiet so as not to upset the youth, before he closed the door, and turned to face the bed.

"I'm afraid we've nearly arrived at Martinique, ma chérie," he said to the young woman, with a fond smile.

"It's been a most enjoyable adventure," she said appreciatively, as she grinned up at him. "I won't ask if you would ever be interested in settling down. I sense too much of a wild spirit in you for that," she added with a laugh.

"You're a rare and precious flower indeed, mademoiselle," he replied, bowing to her with respect.

She smiled back at him warmly, and then they hugged a final time, before she began to get dressed. When they were both ready, he led her outside, and Matthew spotted a couple of sailors who were smoking pipes by the rails.

"When you've finished, I'd be mightily obliged if you'd retrieve the young woman's trunks from my cabin, lads," he said with a smile.

"We'll do that right now, Sir," the men said respectfully, as they emptied out their pipes over the side of the ship, and strode away quickly.

Matthew and Christelle waited by the railing as the Fortune drifted silently closer to Martinique, under the skilful guidance of Mr Hastings. When they got as close as they dared to the hostile port, Matthew ordered the anchor be lowered into the shallow water, and then they watched the sailors prepare the longboat, then haul in the trunks. Matthew and the young woman got in, and the sailors lowered the boat to the water.

"We'll row you in, Sir," the men called down to him, and then scampered down the ladder to join them in the boat below.

"Thanks lads," Matthew said appreciatively, and then turned his attention back to Christelle, as the eager sailors rowed them closer to the docks.

"I had a wonderful time, thank you, Matthew," she said to him with a wistful smile.

"I should be the one thanking you, Christelle," he replied, and the two of them kissed, knowing that in all likelihood it would be for the last time.

The longboat soon edged up to the docks, and the sailors; Mr Carver and Mr Balford, carefully lifted out the trunks, to place them silently on the jetty. Matthew helped the young woman out of the longboat, and then glanced along the docks, searching for the night watchman. He soon spotted a lantern bobbing along in the darkness, illuminating two French soldiers who were heading their way, and checking the docks for signs of trouble.

"You should be fine now, mademoiselle," he told her, as he stepped back into the longboat.

"Stay safe, mon chéri," she whispered to him softly, and waved goodbye before turning to walk up the jetty to the approaching soldiers.

Matthew smiled, and then nodded to the two sailors who grinned at him with admiration. They rowed quietly away, returning them to the Fortune.