“Cap’n, Cap’n, come quick. See what One-Eyed Pete has fished himself outta the bay.”
“Found more treasure, did he?” Captain Rodger Many gave the first mate a wink as he stuck the feather in his cap. “One-Eyed Pete is always searchin’ for his bloody treasure, but he pulls up nothin’ ‘sides flotsam and jetsam.”
“No, Cap’n, not this time. This time he pulled himself up a wench.”
“A wench, ye say? Out here? The men declare high and low this atoll be uninhabited.”
“Aye, Cap’n, so we thought. But it seems she turned up all by her lonesome. Mayhap she were shipwrecked.”
“Be she a comely wench?”
Thoughtfully, first mate One-Armed Jack adjusted his codpiece. “I dunno, Cap’n. Half-drowned she be. But Cap’n, any wench be a comely wench when ye’ve had no woman for nary a year.”
“Aye, there be that, One-Armed Jack. There be that indeed.” Captain Many stuck his hat with its jaunty feather atop his head. “Go aloft right quick and order the crew to leave the wench be until I’ve had me way with her. The Captain has first dibs of any wench what’s fished from the sea, ye know. So says the pirate code of honor.”
One-Armed Jack tilted his head. “Pirate code of honor or not, ye may be too late fer that, Cap’n, but I’ll do me best to save a piece of ‘er for ye.”
“Make it a good piece,” the captain called after his first mate.
*****
Virginia Marybelle Papercut stood barefoot in a puddle, her wet hair plastered to her head, her soaked shift pasted to her body, exposing everything she had to the ravenous eyes of the…what? Pirates? Am I on a pirate ship? Oh I could just scream. Last time I go time-traveling without mapquesting my time-route first. I was supposed to land on a pristine beach in Tahiti.
She looked around, trying to take a quick head count. At least forty unkempt men stared at her erect nipples. Damn cold ocean breezes. Virginia Marybelle crossed her arms over her chest. How long before I can make another time jump? Ten minutes. I have to stall them for ten minutes or I’m gonna find myself the middle layer of a pirate club sandwich. Lets hope they speak English.
She lowered her eyes in feigned humility. “Dear kind sirs, You’ve rescued me from the briny deep. I am forever grateful.” The crowd moved a few steps closer, and with the men came the stench of unwashed bodies. Virginia Marybelle gagged.
“I fished ‘er out. The wench belongs to me.” A filthy hand grabbed her arm.
“She don’t belong to ye, ye scurvy sea slug. Remember the cap’n's rules? We share in the plunder.” A filthy hand grabbed her other arm and tugged her the opposite way.
“Yar, we share. We share.” Pressing closer, the crowd took up the chant.
“Dear sirs, dear sirs,” Virginia Marybelle cried out. “Please, I am a maiden. I am not accustomed to such rough treatment.” She allowed tears to course down her cheeks. “I have led a very sheltered life. My mother has kept me under lock and key, for I am a wealthy prize promised to a worthy gentleman, a very wealthy prize promised to a very worthy gentleman who is, unfortunately, yet to be determined.”
“Eh? What’s that ye say? What are ye blatherin’ on about? A wealthy gentleman? There be no wealthy gentlemen aboard this ship, ‘ceptin’ Cap’n Many. Ye belong to me. I found ye, I get first crack at ye, maiden or no.” He tugged down the bodice of her shift.
At the sight of her bare breasts, Virginia Marybelle heard a sigh roll through the crowd like a wave. Oh fuck. I’m in trouble now. Maybe if there were only five or six men I could take them, I might even be able to handle eight, but forty or fifty? Can’t accommodate that many all at once. Besides, they smell like nasty sweat socks. Ewww.
“No, wait,” she yelled, her arms still gripped by two men who looked like strips of sinew wearing raggedy clothes. “Hold your horses. As a lady of breeding, I choose who goes first.”
“Aye ye scurvy swine, listen to the wench. Make way for Cap’n Rodger Many. If any man is to go first, it will be he as goes first. To the Cap’n go the spoils.” A tall, one-armed man parted the crowd.
This man chucked her under her chin with his one hand, but he had eyes only for her pert nipples. “A lady of fine breedin’ will want a gentleman, eh? A cap’n, perhaps to teach her the ways of men? And then a first mate for a second lesson?” He winked at her. “A much more valuable lesson,” he whispered for her ears only. “Release the wench. Yer cap’n claims his rights.”
With a curse, the two men dropped her arms. Virginia Marybelle Papercut pulled up the bodice of her wet shift and modestly covered herself as best she could. Five more minutes. Hold them off for five more minutes and that computer chip in your brain will recalculate the coordinates and get you the hell off this ship. She looked up to see a small man wearing a jaunty hat saunter towards her. She bit back a laugh. He appeared to be no more than fifteen years old. The feather in his hat stood taller than he did.
“Salute yer Cap’n.”
Virginia Marybelle heard grumbling, but still the men backed away from the slim figure.
“My dear.” He took her hand in his and planted a sloppy kiss on her palm. Ewww, there was tongue in that. The feather tickled her nose and she sneezed. He whipped off the hat, nearly getting her right in the eye with that feather. “Captain Rodger Many at yer service.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Captain Rodger Many.”
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. “Oh, Captain Many, how grateful I am for your rescue. Why, if you and your brave men hadn’t pulled me from the water, who knows what terrible monster of the deep might have made a meal of me.”
“Ye are a comely, well-spoken wench, I must say.” He looked her over from head to toe, at last extending an arm. “Come, my dear, allow me to get ye out o’ this wet sea air afore ye catch yer death.”
“Hold there, Cap’n Many.” It was the man who had fished her from the sea. He stepped in front of her. “Tis me who found ‘er and me that should have the first taste. Tis only fair.”
Virginia Marybelle heard the word ‘aye’ echo among the men lined up on the greasy deck.
“Fair, One-Eyed Pete? Ye dare speak to yer captain about fair? There is no fair aboard ship. There is only yer captain’s rule and yer first mate’s rule and after that yer captain’s rule again.”
“But, Cap’n, sir,” his voice was a whine now, “we ain’t had nary a whiff o’ a woman in a year’s time. Had to use me fist, I has, or Big John’s bum, I has. T’was me who found ‘er. Only seems right and proper I should have a go at ‘er first.”
Virginia Marybelle wondered who Big John was and how his bum was holding up. Three more minutes. She heard the hiss of swords. Oh crap. Virginia Marybelle estimated the distance to the railing and the number of men standing between her and the safety of the sea.
“We wants ‘er, Cap’n, and we aims to ‘ave ‘er.”
She peeked over the jaunty feather. It looked as if all the men were preparing to fight to the death for access to her still dripping wet body.
It’s kind of flattering when I think about it. I mean, an entire crew of sex starved pirates all demanding me, but it would have to be one at a time, well, maybe two, no more than oh, say ten a day, and of course they’d have to bathe… I wonder if any of them are circumcised. I’ve never done it with an uncircumcised male. My mother would have an absolute fit…
To be continued…
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Waiting to see what happens next to Ms. Marybelle:)
lol Oh my. I can’t wait to see how Ms. Papercut can get away from Capt. Rodger Many and his crew.
Oh thank you Barbara and Sandra - must work on the winkie measurements!
I love it! This is hilarious….when is the next installment?
Tomorrow, Penny!