("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Jake and the Castaways a Novelette by Varkel (var_kel@yahoo.com) Spring, 2000 *** Jake has the three Meron sisters, a missionary's pubescent daughters, who along with Jake are the only survivors of shipwreck on a desert island in 1848." (Mm+/Ffg, nc, rp, hist, oral) *** PROLOG: The clipper ship at the quay, the Fleeting Star, longer and sleeker than the tubby Dutch and British ships on either side, was for its era a magnificent emblem of Yankee prowess and technical achievement. Its captain leaned smugly against the stays, watching Chinese coolies wrestle aboard the last of his cargo: tea, porcelain and exotica from the depraved, heathen Middle Kingdom. The man's large nostrils filled with the scent of oak, tar, tea and the stench of the dockside. He was eager to be away, to be again at sea and feel his ship come livelier than a woman beneath him. He smiled at the sight of the Reverend Hosea Meron and his three young daughters beginning their ascent of the aft gangplank. They were such pretty girls, he thought, even the chubby one. Meron, a missionary, owned enough of the Fleeting Star to be welcomed aboard but not enough to question the captain's authority. On the voyage home he and his girls would make a most satisfactory audience for the captain's ship-handling skill. "Good day, Mr. Meron," he called out to the party as it reached the deck below him. "Good morning to you, Captain Norris," Meron replied looking up at the gruff seaman whose uniform could have been that of an admiral. "It's a fine day to return home." The two younger girls pulled away, wanting to race about and inspect the vessel, but the tallest held them in check, gripping their hands tightly. Except for color they were dressed alike in knee-length frocks fluffed by many petticoats, lower legs loosely encased in white laced pantaloons, ankle boots and medium sleeves bunched high on the arm in the style of the previous decade. Their foreheads under wide brimmed bonnets were moist despite having just descended from the breeze of their rickshaws, which did not surprise the captain. It was a warm day in Canton. Sweat must often be wiped away from his own forehead and the bare- chested coolies gleamed with it. "We'll cast off in a few hours, Mr. Meron. Would you and your lovely daughters honor me with your presence at lunch?" "We would be delighted, Captain," Meron called back as he turned to follow the barefoot sailor who led them to their cabins. CHAPTER 1 --------- The two men sat at table in the captain's cabin, enjoying a light repast, while the three girls giggled together at another nearby. The stern portholes stood open, admitting the cool on-shore breeze. "So you had trouble, I hear, with your first mate. What's his name?" "Jacob Higgins," the captain replied with a sour look on his face. "He somehow managed to ship a good sized cargo of his own here to Canton in this very ship. We caught him easily enough, and while he's imprisoned in a converted sail locker, where he belongs, I must admit that I'll miss him on the bridge if we run into trouble. He's a good sailor." "He's a thief," the reverend responded with disdain. "He's stolen from me and from my partners. Let the court in New York deal with the rascal." The girls suddenly began to squeal for no apparent reason, disturbing the men. "Belle," Meron turned to admonish his eldest daughter, "please control those two little imps." "I want to go to the bottom of the boat, Daddy," little Jill stated, coming up to the table. The pretty ten year old had left her bonnet somewhere again, much to the delight of any onlooker, because she had the most lustrous, light blonde hair that hung from her head in natural ringlets. "Rats and stink live down there, darling," Meron replied to his youngest daughter, pulling her onto his lap. The captain watched with narrowed eyes, thinking ironically of the Chinese wanton, no larger and not much older, who had graced his own lap just the night before. As her father's hand closed securely over her abdomen, Jill looked up into the captain's eyes and amazed him with a wink. To the captain it seemed deliberately lascivious. What had this one learned among the heathen? Perhaps to read minds? "I'm getting sea sick, Daddy," pudgy twelve year old Marie complained enviously, wanting a cuddle of her own, despite Belle's previously expressed judgment that all of them had grown too big to sit on a lap. "Marie!" Belle protested sternly. "We're still tied up to the dock." She pulled Marie back from the table, where Jill grinned in her father's embrace, knowing that she was his favorite. Belle was an essentially grown, tall girl of fifteen whose face would be beautiful did it not scowl so often in her role as surrogate mother to the two younger sisters. "Belle, darling," Meron beamed at her, his favorite in fact, "show the girls around the deck. We'll be leaving soon and then it may not be so pleasant." "Yes, Daddy. Give me your hands, sisters." The captain nodded approvingly as the tallest led her sisters out onto the bridge deck, now almost cleared of the clutter of port. "Quite the leader, isn't she!" "Oh, yes," the father responded fondly, "and a more serious and responsible one you would look long to find. Their mother died trying to birth our fourth and Belle has been my right arm since." The man chuckled wryly. "It pains me to know that somewhere in the world today walks a callow lout with no idea of the good fortune that awaits him when he takes her to wife." The captain grinned. "Thus speaks a father! You wish to make certain, I take it, that your 'callow lout' at least is not Chinese?" "If you mean, is that my reason for taking them home? - - no, the European colonies grow in China with every arriving ship. Didn't I understand that you fetched two or three families here on your current voyage?" "Yes, I did. Excuse me, Mr. Meron; I had no intention of prying." "Not at all, captain. I don't mind explaining my reasons. China today is simply not the place to raise white children. Licentiousness is the way of life. You can hire no servant, male or female, for whom sexual intimacy is more significant than urination or defecation, and God knows they're careless enough about that!" "I take it you discovered this characteristic well after you brought your children here?" " paid it no attention until I caught my youngest inspecting an immodest houseboy! Then I saw evidence of the prevailing attitude everywhere I looked. To you, sir, I'll admit my surprise that my wife never noticed such indifference. But she was an intensely loving woman always eager to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. God, how I miss her!" "I'm sure you do," agreed the captain sympathetically. "I was having great spiritual success in my district, except for this sexual abandon that I had failed to notice. When the girls are safe with my sister in Massachusetts, I shall return instanter -- possibly on your next voyage out. Here in China the opportunity and need for God's message is unsurpassed anywhere in the world." The captain smiled. "Don't you find it surprising that such an important message, considering the source, had never managed to arrive here before?" Meron drew back to study the man. "Are you serious?" The captain shrugged. "Perhaps not. Excuse me." He got to his feet, peering out over the long deck. "What concerns me more immediately is that your daughters seem about to enter the fo'c'sle. What they might see there, sir, is worse than any possible inspection of houseboys!" CHAPTER 1: Castaways The ship pitched wildly once again, smashing Jake's head painfully against the strong door of the converted locker. He fell to the deck in nausea, blood streaming from his scalp, as the ship heaved violently back and forth, casting him to the other side of the small compartment. "Oh, Christ!" he moaned aloud, his wail obliterated by the rage of the typhoon that tossed the huge ship as if it were a cork. Above him wind with a strength beyond imagination screamed in the remains of the rigging. The whole structure of the ship, oaken beams thick as his torso, creaked and snapped in constant complaint. Jake had been at sea for 27 of his 44 years, but never had he known such a storm as this. The wind above was so powerful that violent gusts of it penetrated to his prison, deep in the hold, strong enough even there to blow out the oil lamp swinging in the passage beyond his barred door. A few other lights remained in the hold, enough for him barely to make out the silhouette of a hand held before his face. And now water splashed over him as the ship rolled! He struggled to his feet, holding to the bars of the door, cold with sudden fear for his life. A crash loud as thunder rang through the ship and his hands were torn from the bars. He fetched up on the soggy remains of his bedding. Had the mainmast snapped off? A terrible grinding sound reverberated through the ship, on and on, making his teeth ache. No, not the mast. Most of the motion had ceased; what remained seemed to be more pitch than roll, and the deck beneath his feet now sloped permanently upward toward the bow. His cold fear increased as he understood. The Fleeting Star was fleet no longer. Its back was broken on rock. The grinding meant that the storm would soon tear it apart. At least it would be easier to stand now. He forced himself up, reaching again for the iron bars. The light was just bright enough for his astonished eyes to see that the door stood open. The crash on the rocks had forced the locking bar from its hasps. "Get out, we're sinking!" a voice screamed from somewhere in the hold, barely audible above the terrible grinding. Instantly Jake launched himself through the open door. Water rushed at his ankles as he made his way to the nearest companionway. Death seemed fairly certain as he coughed his way toward the upper decks, but less so than in the dark of the hold, now filled with choking dust from the disturbed cargo. He knew that some kinds of dust, tea in particular, were explosive and that lamps were yet lit in the ship. He seemed to fly up the steps. He reached the well deck intent only upon escape and forced open the fo'c'sle entrance. Without hesitation he threw himself into the pitch darkness of the main deck -- and slammed into a wall of water. Immediately he was submerged, alternately lifted and dashed down, twisting and turning crazily, arms and legs flung about by overwhelming forces. Great rushing sounds and monstrous gurglings pounded his ears through the water. He knew only that he was about to die. His lungs were bursting. The run up the companionway had already exhausted his oxygen and he had taken no time to replenish it. Though the violent confusion had eased, he gave up. He opened his mouth to suck in the killing fluid. But it was air that filled his lungs. Sweet, incredible air! He found himself at the surface of the sea, flailing and spitting, but , by god! A breaking wave dashed his momentary elation, but he clawed his head above water again and took another breath. After this happened two or three times he discovered that he fared better faced away from the wind-whipped froth and struck out swimming in that direction. Shortly his arm struck something large and very hard: a smooth, endlessly long pole, probably a ship's spar. He encircled it with both arms and held on desperately as the storm sought to destroy him. Time passed interminably. Hours later a gray light stealing over the world roused him from numbness. To his amazement, he was still alive. The sea was calming because the storm was past. Soon the sun rose above the horizon into a sky cloudless except for a dark mass high in the west, the retreating storm. It promised a lovely day for those more fortunate than he. But he too was fortunate, he suddenly realized, finally registering what his ears had been telling him for some time. The boom of surf! On the crest of the next wave he looked wildly around and espied a dark island behind him hardly 200 yards across white froth. * * * Though weak and exhausted, he wasted no time in pulling himself erect and staggering above the strand, beyond the reach of the dashing water. There he flung himself on his back and took great lungfulls of air. He almost fell asleep, so peaceful was this motionless land and cool breeze, but the very incongruity of his fate amused him. From prisoner in the tiny locker to freedom in an infinitely larger prison! Presumably so until further notice. He rose first to his elbows, then to his feet, the better to survey his new world. From wave marks above the surf, he judged the tide to be low. Despite that, the sandy beach was relatively narrow. A jungle began hardly fifty yards from the water. Tilting his head back, he understood the reason for the narrow beach. The land, clothed in palms and broad-leafed tropical vegetation, rose quickly in a slope he thought as much as forty degrees to a hill high enough to shade this beach in early afternoon. He saw shells above the high-water mark and here and there the parallel tracks of crabs and the trident tracks of birds, but no human footprints except his own. The beach curved away to right and left. On his left a huge cluster of rocks rose from the sea a half- mile offshore. Possibly the Fleeting Star had struck a submerged member of that collection. No strange footprint, but artifacts were washing ashore even as he watched. He waded into the surf and picked up a sailor's striped shirt, thinking that if he was to survive he might need it. Here and there were other articles: mostly barrels most probably of tea, a few boxes, a pillow from some sailor's hammock, even a corked bottle. He retrieved the bottle and found a folded paper inside. The handwriting was only too recognizable. "To whom it may concern: "Greetings. "This message is consigned to the charity of the sea at five bells of the dog watch on July 2, 1848, believed at 7 S 139 W, past the northernmost island of the Marquesas group, the ship assailed by wind and wave forcible beyond previous experience, having lost mizzen and midtop before darkness fell, pumps barely keeping pace with the flood, with 104 souls on board. "Harvey G. Norris, Master, Fleeting Star, out of Canton bound for New York "May God have mercy on our souls." Jake stood quietly with the paper in his hand. Curious message! He was certain that the dog watch was long behind them when the ship crashed on the rock. Then he decided, not so curious: obviously the bottle would drift before the storm alongside the crippled ship. Was he the only survivor? He shaded his eyes and looked farther out to sea. Flotsam in the shape of barrels rose into sight on the tops of swells as far as he could discern them. The fatal rock could be miles offshore. But had made it! The stormwind must have been onshore; a shoreward current might even be running. Perhaps the only difference was that he had jumped into the dark almost immediately after the ship went on the rock. Perhaps others had tried to stay with the hulk and were at last drifting closer. He jumped up and down, shouted and waved his arms over his head, but had to give it up when no answering arm could be seen on the sun-sparkling water. With a sigh and a whimsical smile, he stuffed the paper back into the bottle, shoved home the cork and threw the message as far as he could back into the surf. * * * A dry throat finally drove him from under his palm tree back out onto the beach in the dazzling noon-day sun. The storm last night must surely have contained as much rain as wind. He reasoned that somewhere on the island a fresh water stream, however temporary, must today be spilling into the sea. Facing the surf he turned right and set out to round the island, trying to count his paces as he strolled. His clothing, a tattered sleeveless undershirt and side-striped trousers that remained from his mate's uniform, was long since dry, itching his shoulders and hips with the retained salt. He walked in the wet strand of necessity because the dry sand was hot enough in the sunlight to cook his bare feet. Though he had slept off and on during the long morning, he was confident no one might have come ashore without him noticing. No footprint had been added to those of his own. Now the tide had turned and was rising. His count of paces was approaching 200 when he crossed a spit of sand, rounding a boulder large as a house, and saw the white lifeboat stranded hardly a hundred yards further down the beach. He lifted on his toes into a jog, dashing spray from the puddles left by the strongest waves, and quickly reached the boat. It was 20 feet of white-painted wooden hull, one of four normally born inverted on the main deck, covered with canvas still laced to the gunwales. With a sigh of disappointment he decided that this one had simply come loose from its restraints during the storm to wash up here and be stranded at low tide, as had the other flotsam still lying about. Ah, but a lifeboat contained emergency provisions! He turned to the bow, where to his surprise he found the laces already loosened, leaving an edge of the canvas free to flap in the wind. Thirst drove him to ignore this anomaly. Yes! Just beneath the raised flap in the bow thwarts was the provision locker. Leaning into the boat, he worked the sliding catch forcefully, opened the cover and smiled hugely as he held up a corked gallon jug of clear water. The cork was jammed tight, but reaching farther into the locker he located the corkscrew as expected. The plug was soon extracted. One second later the sweetest water he had ever tasted was washing down his throat, albeit likely it had been moldering in that same jug for the two years since Fleeting Star's initial voyage. Much refreshed, he lowered the jug to the canvas cover and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Life was looking up! If this proved to be one of the two boats with centerboard, stepped mast and mainsheet, he could very shortly -- From close behind him a female voice said clearly, "We couldn't get it open." CHAPTER 2 Discoveries ----------- Jake nearly jumped onto the boat's canvas cover. Restraining an oath, he swung about to behold a young lady clad incongruously in a bedraggled short dress and half-sleeved blouse, obviously supported by many petticoats. Her light brown hair had been coiled atop her head at one time; now long strands of it hung free, fluttering in the breeze. She wore stockings to the knee but no shoes. Two smaller girls, dressed the same even to garment color, hung back behind this one. "Who are you?" he asked, gaping at the bulge of modest breasts under the wrinkled blouse. Raising his eyes, he realized suddenly that she was beautiful. "We couldn't get the locker open," she replied in a sternly haughty voice that belied the unadorned innocence of her youthful face. The shortest girl, an exquisite blond child no older than eleven, advanced around the tallest and pled, "Sir, may I have a drink?" She stood close to Jake, staring up into his face, boldly demanding the water. "Yes, we're very thirsty," the tallest stated, reaching for the bottle as if it were her right. The middle girl cowered behind, peeking over her elder's shoulder at Jake, who in bemusement surrendered the jug. "You're from the ship," he observed unnecessarily. "Are there any others?" "None alive," the eldest said somberly, tilting the heavy jug for the youngest to drink. "There are some bodies down the beach." Jake turned to look. Much flotsam was washing in with the tide. He could not distinguish human from artifact. Meanwhile the tallest gave water to the middle child before bringing it to her own lips. When she lowered the jug, he asked, "What are your names?" "I am Annabelle Celeste Meron," said the tallest gravely, "at your service." She put her hand on the middle child, chubby, a dark brunette. "This is my sister, Clister Marie." The identified girl blushed fiercely, reddening even to the upper arms, and hung her head. "And this is my youngest sister," -- the hand transferred to the blonde -- "Jill Anna." Unlike her middle sister, Miss Jill stared boldly up at the man. Jake nodded. "I am Jacob Higgins, and I'm very glad to see you, though for your sake I hope we find others alive." "Daddy's still out there," Jill, the blonde, declared, her face solemn. The middle child, Clister Marie, emitted a sob and turned her face into the hollow of her elder's neck, where she began to weep quietly but convulsively. The tallest regarded Jake impassively, either in control of her emotions or perhaps in shock. "How in the world did you get ashore?" he asked. "In that." "In the lifeboat?" "Yes. My father said that the storm was blowing toward land. When the back mast blew away, he put us in the boat under the cover and he climbed on top. He made the sailors lower it into the water. When the storm died down, I was able to cut the lashings with my little knife and we climbed out. The boat was where it sits now." "But your father... wasn't with you?" "No, sir. The boat--" She looked down at the snuffling Marie, leaned her head closer to Jake and whispered, "The boat turned completely over several times." "Did it! I'm surprised you don't have broken ribs." "Father put us between two mattresses." Jake shook his head. "So much foresight for you and so little for himself!" Her eyes glinted. Criticism of her father was not welcome. "What do you mean?" "He should have realized he could never hold on to a boat cover in such a storm." "He is no sailor." She looked away and corrected herself. "Was." A tear glittered in her eyelash. "I'm sorry, my dear Meron, eh? He was a passenger?" The girl's eyes flashed upon his. "Aren't you from the ship?" "Yes, of course." He smiled grimly. "I came ashore upon a spar." "Then how could you not know about our father and us?" Jake returned her stare, wondering how best to explain that, when the blonde Jill declared, "He's the man in the little room behind the bars. Is it truly a jail, sir?" Even chubby Marie, still clinging to her elder, ceased snuffling long enough to stare over her shoulder at him. He noted that her eyes were so brown as to be almost black, where the other pairs were bright blue, all inspecting him as if he were a gaffed shark. But these were only young girls. "Yes, it is," he admitted calmly. "Or was." "Are you a very bad man?" asked Jill avidly. He smiled at her. "The captain thought so." "Captain Norris was a fine seaman," the tallest declared, haughty tone returning. "Our father said so many times." Jill asked curiously, "What did you do to him?" "Jill!" snapped the eldest, but she, too, awaited his answer. He maintained his smile. "I hurt his pride. It is a dangerous thing to hurt a captain's pride." Jill was fascinated. "Is that like mashing his ?" "His what?" "Jill!" The tallest shrugged out of Marie's arms, caught the blonde by the neck and pulled her away from the man. "You will not speak of such things," she ordered fiercely. Jake asked, "What does it mean?" The blonde twisted easily away from the restraining hand. "It means his grapes," the child explained. The eldest lunged for her but she evaded, adding, "Wu Fong said they're not really grapes, even if they do feel -- " She had to leave off and break into a run. The tallest chased her toward the tree line. Marie was left to stare at him alone. "Are you truly a bad man?" she whispered, eyes huge. "No. What language is ?" "The Hanchow dialect. We didn't study Mandarin yet." Blushing as if two successive sentences exceeded her limit, she spun away after her sisters, running in the jerky manner peculiar to pubescence. "Hanchow? Where in China is that?" When he received no answer, he raised hands to either side of his mouth and yelled, "I'll go look for other survivors." He set off down the beach. The enormity and horror of the disaster weighed on him at last. Away from the charm of their female voices and dress, he could contemplate what finding these girls likely would mean to him. They constituted a responsibility that no man of self-respect could ignore, not even one freed from prison and saved from the storm by nothing more than fickle fate. He passed three corpses, sailors known to him, one of which bobbed in the surf, and waded into the water to pull that body onto the beach also. He would have to bury them, he knew. He walked on for several hundred yards but discovered nothing more than scattered debris, the only consequential piece being a small cask of rum. Rounding a sand spit, he came upon a cove formed of tall rock. A narrow strip of sand penetrated to its depth only on the nearer side. The waves dashed directly on the opposite rocks. They formed a natural cut sloping steeply up the hill, huge boulders interspersed with green vegetation. The cut was oblique, so that the surf broke only upon the outer perimeter. At its deepest recess the sunlight, slanting over the slope that would soon shade the whole beach, glittered on falling water. He hurried at an easy trot along the narrow beach and found a burbling stream dancing down the rocks into the sea. The flow was copious today after the storm but seldom ever dry, according to the mossy evidence. He cupped his hand under the cool flow and tasted it. Fresh water! He looked around, studying the site. Part way up the slope was a level space among the palms. The ground was studded with fallen coconuts. He recognized breadfruit and banana plants from his six months stranded once in Hawaii. With tools he knew he could feed a small group, and the boat's two lockers were supposed to contain tools. Here was the place for a camp. It had food and water and was high enough for a fire to attract rescue. Oh his way back to the boat he reached the rum cask sitting in the sand just as a dying wavelet splashed against it. Stupid, he thought, to let it wash out to sea with the rising tide. He took it up under his arm and walked on. It gurgled pleasantly. Ahead of him the shade of the huge hill was beginning to darken the white beach. The boat was a speck high and dry above the strand. Its lightly loaded hull had been enough of a sail for the storm winds to push it higher than the ordinary tide could reach. The huge jumble of rocks glowered offshore to his right. Just as well, he thought, that the girls could not imagine the doom their fragile boat had so narrowly missed. Jake undid the bung absently and took a long draught. The fiery liquor was welcome in his gullet. Though he reminded himself that it was too early for drinking, he took another swig. Why not? Who could possibly be offended? When he reached the lifeboat, he saw the girls in their colorful clothing under the palm trees at the edge of the beach. They seemed content to watch him remove the lacings at the stern of the boat. When he raised the canvas cover, letting the wind hold it back above the still fastened part, he was greeted by the sickly pungent odor of vomit. He found the two mattresses and, releasing additional lacings, brought them out onto the high sand to dry. Their condition did not surprise him. It must have been horrible indeed inside the small boat as it rolled on its beams in pitch darkness. Even people inured to ship motion by a long voyage would have been sickened. He wondered whether the girls' quick recovery of good spirits indicated strength of character or merely the resilience of children. Indeed this was a sailboat! The sectioned mast lay clamped along the sides, with mainsheet and lines folded and stowed just ahead of the centerboard box. The shippable tiller was clamped in the stern. The survivors of Fleeting Star would not have to endure this unnamed island for long! He leisurely examined the boat's provisions from both bow and stern lockers, finding another jug of water, several pounds of hardtack, a sewing kit, a water-tight tube of lucifer's, a sealed box containing a Colts cap- and-ball revolver with the ammunition for several reloads, a shovel, hammer, handsaw and, most immediately impressive, a snicker snee. He held up the long knife to see it glint in the sunlight. He smiled. With this boat and its treasures he felt himself both fortunate and rich. The girls gazed apprehensively down at the man near the water's edge, watching him rummage through the lifeboat. "Is he going to help us?" Marie asked with a nervous quaver in her voice. "I don't know," Belle, the eldest, replied slowly. "There's no one else to help us, but remember what Father said. Sailors can be trouble." "I want my daddy!" Ready tears overflowed Marie's cheeks. She bawled until Belle quieted her with a hug. The eldest found this behavior curious, though she refrained from comment. Their father had shown Marie the least attention of all. "What kind of trouble?" asked Jill. "I think you know the answer to that," Belle retorted. "Mash his , indeed!" "That's trouble for the ," the blonde suggested. "Have you forgot what Wu Fong wanted to do to you?" Jill retorted in the dialect of the Hanchow district that Wu Fong had promised to ride her to the heavenly world on his rod of love. Belle's eyes flashed. "Speak English. You know what Father said. We must still obey him." "It doesn't sound nearly so sweet in English," Jill grumbled. "Is Father not coming back?" asked Marie piteously. "I don't know, darling," replied Belle, hugging her again. They watched the man sit on the sand and play ominously with an enormous knife. For more than an hour they observed him repeatedly loft the cask and drink from it. Jake got gloriously drunk, although before every drink he reminded himself that he had to take charge of the disastrous situation and see after the girls. He began to hum a tune popular in the waterfront saloons. The words soon came back to him. He sang loudly and joyfully. The wind blew his song, only slightly garbled, to the fascinated audience under the palms. "Oh-h-h, I've been there and I've been told that the Boston lass is mighty bold." "If the fire is low and the money bright. She'll dock your sprit throughout the night." Marie had a question, but held it to listen more closely as the distant singer attacked the chorus: "The Boston lass, the Boston lass "Will pinch your boodle and spank your ass. "The Boston lass, the Boston lass "Will lick your doodle and drain you fast." The song ceased. "'Dock your sprit,'" Marie repeated. "What does that mean?" "I don't know," responded Belle, making a face, "but it's probably indecent." "I know!" Jill insisted. "The sprit is that long pole at the front of the ship. I think it means what Wu Fong wanted me to do." Her lip curled and she glared askance at the tallest. "If you hadn't got Daddy to run him off." "I saved you from a lot of trouble," Belle responded with some heat. "The day will come you'll be grateful. Father said so." "What trouble? Why will nobody say?" Belle held her peace. Shortly the man's voice arrived again, bearing a second verse. "The Boston lass has a tight little cunt. That pinches your doodle and makes you grunt. But for him who brings her even more gold "She'll boot your ass out in the cold." "Oh, the Boston lass, the Boston lass," etc. "What's a doodle?" asked Marie during the repeated chorus. Jill answered with a word of Chinese. Marie blushed. Belle raised a punishing hand but relaxed with a sigh. Jill frowned. "Then a cunt must be a hand." "Why?" asked Belle curiously. "Because it pinches." Marie smiled secretly. "Not a hand," she murmured. * * * "By God," Jake exclaimed drunkenly, eyes wide in sudden realization, "I'm a sheik on my own island and I have a lovely harem." He had consumed almost half the cask. His mind had become confused and his lips numb. He was close to vomiting. His first attempt to rise failed pathetically and he fell into a sprawl. "Girls," he called from a stooping position, "your master is coming to get you." He struggled to his feet, pulled off his britches and staggered toward the tree line clad only in the sleeveless shirt. His penis, more nearly erect than his body, waggled back and forth as he stumbled toward the girls. Spittle drooled from his mouth, open to gasp for air as he lurched onward with bleary eyes, the long knife still in his hand. Belle watched the man approach with horror. She pulled Jill and Marie behind her, then leaned down and collected a handful of sand. Marie blubbered with quivering lips at the sight of the oncoming monster. Jill peeked from behind the eldest in open- mouthed fascination at the size of the exposed "doodle," so incredibly larger than Wu Fong's! "So, you pretty," Jake slurred, staggering up to the girls and confronting Belle, who stood ready for combat, her body bent slightly forward. "Do you want me first? I have enough for the lot of you." With a calculated flip of the wrist Belle threw the handful of sand into his face. Though he dodged too late, his blink reflex was still able to save his eyes. He fell back, caught himself, pawed the air and staggered even farther forward, stumbled and collapsed, his swinging arms knocking all three girls to the ground. "Hurrah!" the drunken man exclaimed in triumph, throwing Belle's many skirts above her hips, exposing pale thighs and a modest pubic bush. He crawled upon her before she could twist away, easily fending off the blows of her fists with his arms. His knees forced hers apart. "No, no!" she screamed, trying to reach his eyes with her fingernails. Lying heavily upon her, he wrapped one arm about his face, using the other hand to guide his manhood. Marie, seemingly overcome, dashed away into the trees. Jill hovered close, fist balled and extended tentatively toward the man's head. Instead of striking, however, she leaned around to see what he was doing with the hand between the pairs of legs. His fingers opened the tender flesh. Positioning himself, hand assisting his stiffness, he pressed into it irresistibly, once, twice. On the third thrust the barrier gave way. The girl screamed in pain and fear. "Don't hurt her!" cried Jill and struck Jake's back ineffectually with both fists. Marie returned suddenly from the underbrush, a freshly fallen coconut, still in its husk and twice the size of her head, held aloft. She brought its narrow end down with all her strength on the straining man's head. His body stiffened. He flopped over reflexively onto his back beside his victim and lay still with mouth wide, breathing hoarsely. Blood spread quickly in the sand behind his head. Marie lifted her weapon to strike again. Belle interposed her own hand over his face. "Don't hurt him!" Marie stared at her and said with a strange certainty, "Then he'll only hurt you again." Jill, eyes round, said, "You're bleeding, too, Belle." The eldest got to her feet and pushed her skirts down. "I'll be all right. We need him, Marie. This place is wild." "I want my daddy," declared Marie, letting the coconut fall to the sand. But this time she didn't bawl. Jill leaned down to inspect the man's still erect penis, reaching out and enclosing it with a diffident hand. "Jill!" Belle screamed at the youngest, slapping her painfully on the back of the head. "Get away from him!" The youngest lurched erect and stood rubbing the back of her head, wide eyes on her sister, who retrieved the long knife from the sand where it had fallen and gestured to the others. "Come on quickly, before he wakens." They ran together down to the shore. Under Belle's direction they secured the cask of rum and all the items Jake had earlier taken from the boat, removing the lot in three trips deep into the shelter of the trees, while Jake remained unconscious on his back. Belle segregated the water and hardtack. The girls carried it up the beach in the direction from which Jake had first appeared, to a point where the tree line extended further out. There they rested in the shade and took nourishment for the first time that day, while keeping an eye on the fallen man. CHAPTER 3 Remorse and Caution ------------------- Before nightfall the girls checked on the unconscious man, Belle armed with the large knife and Marie with a coconut. They lingered over the half naked body longer than was really necessary. Jill stared unashamed at Jake's now flaccid penis, which lay along his upper thigh, impressive even in repose. The other two stole glances at it again and again. "Are you certain I didn't kill him?" asked Marie, biting her lip apprehensively. "No, dear," Belle assured her again. "He is breathing and his bleeding has stopped." The eldest knelt beside the man and rotated his head enough to see that a scab was forming where the coconut had struck. She also saw another scar from an earlier cut and released the unresisting head distastefully. "He's passed out from the drink, I suppose," she snarled, rising to her feet and pushing at the torso with her stockinged foot. She was furious with the man. Because of him, she reminded herself with bitterness, she was no longer a virgin. She separated her knees once again to ease the soreness. She had long dreamed of being taken for the first time in a much different way, entwined with a loving husband on her wedding night. "I thought my coconut did it," observed Marie with a frown. "It did," the eldest agreed, "but the rum he drank is what keeps him asleep. Do you remember old Tai-lo after he found Father's medicinal whiskey?" Marie thought about it. "Why would anyone want to do that?" Belle grunted. "You'll have to ask someone who does. certainly wouldn't!" Marie accepted that, but Jill had a question. "Why did he hurt you, Belle? He made you bleed!" "He was crazy, dear. Crazy drunk." "Will he be crazy when he wakes up?" "I don't think so, unless he finds more rum." "We won't tell him where we hid it, will we?" "No, dear. Jill, you must promise me not to tell him about any of the things we hid. That is what we have to bargain with." "I won't tell him, Belle." The sunset that evening was astounding in its beauty, even though the heights that shaded the beach obscured the Sun itself. Dramatically painted clouds, piled high toward the south, threatened a storm. The sisters had constructed a rude shelter of fronds amidst a grove of palms, located up the beach from the man who lay on the sand like a corpse. They huddled under it together, savoring the light breeze, and unwrapped crackers of hardtack salvaged from the boat. It was hard chewing but all three girls enjoyed sound teeth. Nearly tasteless, it nevertheless swelled with saliva and, along with draughts of water from the jug, filled their stomachs. Darkness fell quickly, as it does in the tropics. Soon the three girls could see each other only by starlight, in a world utterly empty except for themselves. Marie snuggled to Belle, snuffling a bit but determined not to cry. She tried with all her mental energy to wish herself and her sisters into the past, back to Hanchow where they had been so happy. Jill, too, thought of Hanchow and their expansive home, large enough for secret places, in one of which Belle had discovered her naked with Wu Fong before he could more than touch her, before he could teach her the naughty things that she somehow knew were deliciously sweet. Jill dozed off with her face nuzzled into Belle's neck and a hand on the eldest's breast. Belle's eyes were wide open, staring into the blackness above her. She felt a worry too large, too all- encompassing to allow more than a single, desperate solution: she must tame that awful man, that Higgins. She knew herself incapable of saving the girls in their present situation. Only he could, if he would. She suddenly felt old, although she was not quite fully grown. * * * Torrents from the storm lashed the beach and the man lying upon it, awakening him suddenly. It tasted sweet. Only rain? His first sensation was relief for a dry throat, the second was nausea. Up came his gorge, irresistible and massive. He turned his head quickly and vomited powerfully to the side, onto his cheek, onto the sand. His head was splitting. A hammer pounded his temples with every heartbeat. Thinking himself still in the sea, he flailed out with his arms to swim but ground them unmistakably into wet sand. No, by god, he was lying on his back on a beach! The nearby thud and hiss of surf made that clear. And he was naked. No, not quite. He was wearing a soggy undershirt. He sat up and his head seemed to explode. He groaned aloud at the overwhelming pain. Where was he? Opening his eyes revealed nothing: absolute blackness. He was blind, then. Oh, no, he wasn't! A streak of lightning zigzagged across the sky, accompanied by a soul shaking crash of thunder. For an instant clear as day he saw a narrow beach and wind-torn white- caps nearly reaching his own position, a ship's lifeboat poised among them. Automatically he determined to reach that boat and rolled forward onto his knees. His head protested in agony. It felt as if a horse had recently kicked it. He continued forward, over onto his face in wet sand. The rain stung the back of his head now. He put up a hand and discovered hair and sand matted into a thick scab. The area was tender to the touch. Suddenly his gorge rose again, even more powerfully, but he could raise his head only enough to keep the vomit off his shirt. God, he was sick! The unspeakable flavors in his mouth included the taste of rum. Rum! Where in hell might a prisoner find rum? With a rush the memories came back: the shipwreck, the night in the water, finding the boat, meeting the girls -- good god, where were the girls in this storm? The wind increased, driving the rain up the beach so hard as to sting his exposed skin. The boat, their passage back to civilization -- he to save that boat! But where was it? His orientation was gone. The wind howled even above the crash of surf. He rose to his knees, awaiting the next lightning flash. When it came, the boat was gone! Stunned, he jumped to his feet, the sinking in his heart momentarily more powerful than the pain in his head and the nausea in his gullet. Blind, he took several cautious steps forward, nearly knocked down by the wind, until he found himself wading in the surf, warmer than the rain. Another deafening flash revealed the boat, now well beyond the shore, heading before the wind directly toward the rock pile offshore. He stared in its direction forlornly. He knew with certainty that he had awakened too late, that he could never save it now. How bad was this new storm? On the next flash he was already looking upward, ready to apply an experienced mariner's eye to the organization of storm clouds. He easily recognized the one-sided configuration of a mere squall -- a dangerous one for small craft, he noted ironically, but soon to pass over any particular point. He trudged into the tree line and sat down, leaning back against a slanted palm bole to wait it out. Memory returned of the equipment removed from the boat. He sighed again, thinking it all lost, the floating items blown out to sea, the weapons and tools buried in the sand. At first light he might find the shovel, if he had any luck left. The water bottles! He started to get up, meaning to form a bucket of large leaves, then sank back as he recalled the cove and its falling stream that this squall could only enhance. A drink! The rum, too, must be gone. Ah, that was it. His last memory was of swilling rum betwixt verses of the "Boston Lass." That explained the head and the nausea, perhaps ultimately even the scab in his hair. But when had he removed his britches? "What a goddamned fool!" he said aloud. The wind was dying. Not three feet away a feminine voice asked clearly, "And who is the fool?" He put out a hand and felt a yielding shoulder that immediately snatched itself away. "Don't touch me!" its owner commanded. "Which one are you?" he asked after clearing his throat of phlegm. "Are you still crazy?" the voice asked. "Crazy?" "Belle said that you were crazy." "Where is Belle?" "In the trees." "Trees! Are you girls all right?" "Yes, we're safe. Belle let me come to see if are all right." The girl's voice paused and then asked diffidently, "Do you still want to do..." Her voice died away to inaudibility. "Do what?" he asked. "Wh-what you did to Belle?" "What was that?" She failed to answer. With a sense of foreboding, he asked again, "What did I do to Belle?" "You don't remember?" The tone was incredulous. He explained sheepishly, "I think I was drunk." "You put your thing into her. Do you want--" "Oh, my god! I did ?" "You knocked her down and got between her legs." Jake shuddered. "Oh, no!" His head sank into his hands. "I didn't rape her, did I? Please tell me she said, 'Yes!'" "She said, 'No, no!'" He sat silently, horror stealing over him. The girlish voice added, so softly that he barely heard, "But I wouldn't." "Wouldn't what?" he asked hoarsely. "Say, 'No.'" He took a deep breath. Which of the two was she? Jake wondered. Certainly not Belle! "Is she hurt?" He rose impatiently on a knee. "Give me your hand." "Why?" "To lead me to your sisters." He heard a swish of leaves but no reply. After a moment he leaned toward the girl's position and felt around but encountered only wet fronds. "Hey!" he called. "Jill! Isn't that your name?" Or was it the middle one, the plump little girl whose expression was so much like that of a frightened doe. Listening closely, he heard no response. The wind was still rustling in the wet foliage, enough to mask foot noises. But how could she make out her path? Was a child's night vision better than a man's? Apparently so, he decided, if the man was afflicted with a raging hangover. Groaning, he sagged back against his palm trunk, head sunk in his hands. Crazy, was he? Had he actually raped the girl? His cock had no memory of it. In the morning light he would get to the bottom of the matter. He knew that a man is always accountable for his acts, one way or the other, however much he might himself despise them. But he had done it before, raped a girl, he recalled in anguish, in Santiago. She was so cute, and he so drunk. Christ! The little thing didn't even have tits. And now he had done it again, evidently. He didn't remember it, although the guilt pressed upon him. The rain had ceased. A star appeared in the opening above him, then a rush of others as the obscuring clouds moved on. It was enough for him barely to make out the white breakers, even around the rocks offshore, but he saw no sign of the white lifeboat. * * * It was a glorious morning, fresh and clean. Jill was up with the Sun. Only she had managed to sleep through the horrid storm. Her sisters slumbered yet, Marie cupped behind Belle. Jill took a drink from the water jug and removed a single chunk of hardtack from its oilskin bag, then put it back distastefully. She was hungry, but her clammy wet clothing was of more immediate concern. She stood facing the beach and pulled layer after layer of damp garments from her slight body until she was clad in a petticoat and nothing else. Her graceful arms and slender shoulders were bare, open to the sun as were her lovely knees and calves. Her tangled hair, as golden as the dawn itself, lent her the appearance of a wild child, but her exquisite oval face that of an angel. Jill raced onto the beach in search of the curious man who had hurt Belle, the man who possessed such a large penis. She saw him in the far distance, naked, emerging from the heavy surf of the storm's aftermath. She slowed her advance, suddenly cautious. She stopped and watched him pull on his shirt as the water lapped at his ankles. He turned his head and looked at her. She would go no closer. He was a bad man. He started towards her, but she ran into the trees on a different line than the direction to her sleeping sisters. The Sun was well into the sky before Marie and then Belle came awake, much to the relief of Jill, who had been fidgeting around the makeshift camp for at least an hour. "He's alive!" she announced to her groggy sisters, rushing up to them as they stretched and yawned, Belle twisting her neck because of a crick. "I'm hungry," complained Marie, whose well rounded body required more calories than her slender sisters. "Here." Jill passed her the bag of hardtack. Marie made a face but took out a cracker and bit off a piece. Jill said to the eldest, "Won't we soon get something better to eat?" "Yes, of course, we shall," Belle responded soothingly, getting up to stand at her full height, somewhat taller than Marie and much more so than little Jill. "You're almost naked!" she admonished the youngest when her eyes adjusted to the day. "Did you let him see you like that?" "I didn't come close to him," Jill replied defensively. "What would happen if I did?" "Don't try to find out!" Jill turned away with a sniff. Belle murmured in reflection, "Well, I suppose we'll all have to adjust to our new circumstances." She began herself to shed some layers of clothing in the breezeless morning. Marie, usually so shy, was quickly clad like her younger sister, in just a petticoat that draped her body more tightly than did Jill's, suggesting small breasts and a solid mid section. The middle sister's limbs were ample, but well proportioned and shapely. Though pleasantly rubenesque, she was not truly a fat girl. Belle smiled at her younger sisters, shrugged and likewise stripped down to her petticoat. Belle was gorgeous. Her garment concealed the torso of a young woman with generous hips and almost mature breasts. The graceful line from ankles to upper thighs was exciting even to little Jill, who appreciated such things. But Belle's face quickly took on her usual, stern expression, as she looked from Marie to Jill. She paused thoughtfully before speaking. "We need that ." She pronounced the man's name with a sneer. "But we can't let him take charge of us. He's a beast, you know." Marie looked up at her older sister with an open mouth, nodding slightly. Jill wrinkled her face, not understanding. "We need him because he's strong and because he knows a lot of things." She paused to study her audience. "But he's a man, and you know what they're like." Marie blushed deeply, but Jill asked, "What are they like?" Belle looked at the youngest with an expression of exasperation. "Just don't let him touch you." "Even if I want him to?" "Especially then!" Belle retorted. "May I touch him?" "No!" Belle shouted, almost out of patience with the child, whom she knew to be sexually precocious despite her size. She would never forget bursting into the attic chamber and finding Jill naked with Wu Fong, the sixteen year old house boy, whom she herself secretly loved. "Listen to me," Belle began again. "We need Higgins, but we don't need him to be one of us. We must keep him in his place. Whenever he's around we'll speak Chinese to let him know that." "Doesn't he speak Chinese?" asked Jill. "Have you forgot? He doesn't know the Hanchow dialect, at least." "Father told us to quit speaking Chinese," Jill reminded her. "We shall, except when Higgins can hear us." "But what if he then just goes off by himself?" Marie asked sensibly in a low voice. Belle realized that Marie had just found the flaw in her plans, but a brilliant insight occurred to her. "He won't go away because he's a man and we're women. He'll always be hoping." "Hoping for what?" Jill chirped with a knowing smile. Belle stared at the girl and threw up her hands. "Have some hard crackers," she suggested, not wanting to continue this conversation. "Then come and sit in front of me while I plait your hair." Later, as her hands wove among Jill's golden strands, she murmured pensively, "One of the first things we must get from him is better food. We'll have to give him something, too." * * * Jake had retreated into the shade as the rising sun tingled on his reddened arms. He was sunburned there, on the tops of his feet and on his face, all of which had been pale from weeks in prison. He shook his head. He had slept the previous afternoon in a drunken stupor! Had he not lain in the shade, purely by the accident that the girls were there, he would probably be sunburned all over, including his cock! He looked up suddenly when he heard a soprano shout and saw the blonde girl staring at him from a hundred yards away. That's the small one, he thought, as pretty as a porcelain doll. And no more sexually attractive, he would have added, had he not been filled with remorse and a sick headache. He had vowed the night before never to even think about sex again. It was his penance for the awful sin he had apparently committed. At dawn, when he realized that he would continue to live, he thought of leaving the beach and losing himself in the interior of the jungle island, to be away from the girls and their temptation. But then he acknowledged that they needed him, his strength and skills, possibly for the rest of their lives unless he could somehow build a replacement for the lost sailboat. He had searched the strand and found nothing. All the litter from yesterday, the tools and food from the boat, was of course blown away or buried out of sight. As best he could he had located the spot where the boat had stood by the remembered angles of certain palm trees. He had dug in the sand desultorily, hoping to find a few tools, the long knife, anything -- to no avail. Every thought of losing that boat induced another paroxysm of self reproach: He was a sailor, a first mate who had hoped one day to become captain. But instead of pulling the fucking thing higher onto the beach, he had gotten drunk and raped a young girl! In the bright light of day he had to face the enormity of his guilt. They would be marooned on the island for years, he concluded, because a ship had no reason to come so far off the shipping lanes and discover them. He knew about dugout canoes and had once studied the sturdy Polynesian outriggers, but without tools how might he even attempt to construct one? Staring at his toes, he resolved to build them a house somehow, provide them with food and protect them from whatever. But he could not live with them. Another violent rage suddenly festered his brain. He would cut off his cock, had he still possessed the knife... but then, no. He could not do that, because he would bleed to death and not be able to serve the girls. The shout came again, ruffled by a rising onshore breeze. The girl was jumping up and down on something in the sand at the edge of the trees. She wanted his attention, did she? He got up and walked out onto the sand, his hands concealing his manhood. The girl was hardly clear of the trees herself. She stood still when she spotted him. She must be hungry, he thought, and thirsty, too. Her golden hair was plaited behind in a single long, thick braid. She was wearing only a white, knee-length, sleeveless but full-shouldered petticoat. He thought to warn her of sunburn, but even at a distance he could see that her arms and legs were a golden tan. From playing on the ship's deck across the Pacific? When he had reached half the distance, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Bring us food." "I mean to," he shouted back. Immediately she spun around and raced into the trees, bare legs flashing white half way up her thighs where daylight seldom penetrated. "You don't have to run away," he shouted after her, but she had already disappeared. He continued to the point where she had called him and found two things atop a small natural rise in the sand: the long knife and his britches. Of course! He must have had them in his possession when he sought out Belle. Someone had brushed off the sand and folded the garment neatly. Quickly he stepped into it and closed the waistband, surprised at the improvement in confidence afforded by covered genitals. He took up the knife to an even greater lift of feeling, and turned into the tree line himself. Almost immediately he came upon a freshly fallen coconut. A few slashes of the sharp blade, knowingly applied, split the husk away. The hairy nut yielded to a single chop. He licked out the unspilled milk and pried up chunks of the white meat. How welcome and sweet it was in his mouth! But his stomach convulsed in warning when he sought to swallow. Shortly he found three other coconut specimens, one larger than the first, and brought them out into the sun on the mound. In short order he freed the nut in each, then cupped his hands around his mouth and facing the forest, shouted, "Come and eat! Come and eat!" The three girls stepped out onto the sand nearby. Obviously they had been hiding behind the leading palms. Not that he could blame them. They approached cautiously and hesitantly, watching him narrowly, each with braided hair, wearing a white petticoat and apparently nothing more. He studied Belle closely. Yes, her pace was slightly less graceful than yesterday, the knees held farther apart. Her eyes narrowed under his scrutiny. He stared at her breasts, which filled the wrinkled petticoat. Suddenly two sharp points appeared in the full chest. He dropped his eyes immediately, ashamed of himself, ashamed for her, that he had glimpsed her covered parts before. He wondered if she knew how exquisitely desirable she actually was. He knelt and laid the three nuts each on its husk. The girls stopped about ten feet away, staring at him, clearly ready to spring back into the trees. They jumped as the heavy knife fell upon the first nut, separating it into halves and of course spilling most of the milk. He quickly opened the other two similarly. With a deep sigh, he got to his feet and backed away. At ten feet distant from the little offering he asked, "Are you familiar with coconut? Drink what milk is left first, then pry out the white part, the meat, with your fingernails. It's sweet and tasty. You'll like it." The girls edged nearer, watching him closely. He sighed and backed farther away. "You can get all the milk out without splitting the nut if you have a small enough blade. Belle, you have a pen knife, don't you?" Instead of answering, the tallest asked, "If it's so good, why don't eat it?" He shook his head. "Because I'm sick to my stomach. But it's good, and good for you." He sighed. "I know you have reason to doubt me, but I promise you I'll never again do anything to hurt you -- any of you." Belle said something in Chinese. Jill came slowly forward, took up a coconut half and cautiously sipped the liquid. Her eyes widened. She cried out a word, then turned the object up, draining the remaining juice into her mouth. The other two also came forward and took up nuts, but glanced away from Jake only briefly. He raised his hands. "All right. I understand that you hate me this morning. If I did what I fear, I guess you have good reason. I'm sorry, Belle. I would hang for that if we were in port, but if I hang myself I can't help you live here. "Right now I'm going to take this knife and hack out graves for the bodies down the beach. I'll bring you back some bananas and breadfruit I found yesterday." With that he turned on his heel and plodded away, angling onto the cool strand to spare his feet from the sand already heating in the Sun. CHAPTER 4 Hope --------- Yesterday's corpses were gone without a trace. Once again Jake was assailed by feelings of guilt and shame. Instead of returning to bury them when he had a shovel, he had succumbed to rum and awful sin. Nevertheless he felt relief at their absence -- and no particular surprise. The human body is heavy, but in the Mexican War he had witnessed how quickly it becomes distended with the gasses of putrefaction. That condition had aided the high tide and storm winds, which together had cleaned this beach, not just of its human flotsam. Now the strand glistened pristine in the early sun. Above the cove he verified the suitability of the small clearing, spied yesterday, for siting a camp. It was protected by the hill from western storms and from southern storms by the opposite rock wall, yet lay open to the common breeze from the northeast. It was a shelf of level rock, thus the absence of vegetation. Fallen stone could be used to construct both a sturdy shelter and a wall to protect against the terrible eastern storms. Food was nearby, literally growing on the palm, banana and breadfruit trees, and a crystal stream danced down the center of the cut. It was perfect, but would the girls agree to live with him there? It was Belle whom he had to convince, he knew. He must win her forgiveness. But how? * * * He returned to the mound on the beach bearing two ripening bunches of bananas hung over his shoulder and discovered, in addition to three well-scraped coconut rinds, the shovel taken yesterday from the boat. The girls must have found it, he concluded thankfully, thinking how it would ease the construction of the camp. Sitting in its tang was a small wooden box, also from the boat, "Bear Grease," according to its label. For his sunburn? Lowering the bananas, he took it up, pried off the lid with the knife point and slathered the white salve onto arms and forehead with immediate relief. How fortunate for the girls to find exactly what he needed! How good of them to offer it, under the circumstances! He held up the bananas and shouted several times into the tree line, "Come and eat!" They were slower responding. Finally the three of them, still in white petticoats, appeared on the beach and approached cautiously. He tore off a ripe banana and half-peeled it one side at a time, turning it in his hands so that they could study the operation. Then he took a large bite, chewed and swallowed. At last his stomach seemed to welcome the food. "This is a banana," he told them. "I see you liked the coconut. You'll like bananas even better. And thank you for the bear grease. That was very thoughtful." He backed away and they took his place on the mound. Belle peeled a banana as he had done and tasted it cautiously. Her expression showed approval. She said something in Chinese and passed the fruit to her sisters. Shortly each of them was eating her own banana with obvious pleasure, chatting all the while in a Chinese dialect. He smarted at the intentional rudeness but withheld comment because he understood that he deserved to be excluded. He told them, "I've found a place down the beach that would make a good campsite. It has food and water, and we can build a shelter there to protect us from the rain and from storms. It's high enough to see a passing ship and for a ship to see our smoke or fire. Would you like to come and see it?" The girls regarded each other. Belle turned to face him. "We'll stay here, thank you." He bowed towards them. "As you wish. I'm going there to work on it. If you need me, come down the beach as far as you can and call for me." "Would an ax and a saw be of help?" Belle asked around her mouthful of banana. "Yes, of course. Wonderful help!" He cocked his head. "Do you mean you actually found them?" "Wait for us." She added something in Chinese. The girls threw down their banana peels and turned away into the tree line. Jill looked back just before she disappeared. * * * They helped themselves to second bananas, watching the man's figure, burdened with the tools, plod down the beach. Jill asked thoughtfully, "Do you bargain differently in English?" "What do you mean?" asked Belle. "I watched Auntie Lee bargain for vegetables with the hawkers. They waved their hands and yelled a lot." Belle smiled. "They were bargaining for price. Auntie Lee and the hawkers both knew auntie needed the vegetables. We don't know what Higgins needs... except I think he needs for us to forgive him." "Why?" asked Marie. "He made you bleed and I made him bleed. Aren't we even?" "No!" Belle declared passionately. "I'm surprised at you, Marie." Jill looked from one to the other with interest. Belle explained, "To hurt someone in her private parts is much, much worse than a little cut on the head. You know about hanging, don't you? Even he said he would hang for it if we were in a port. Don't you understand how bad it is? They would kill him, Marie." Marie frowned. "No, I don't understand. Isn't that what men do to every woman?" Belle drew herself up. "You'd understand if it was done to you!" Her eyes narrowed. "How can you know what men do to women?" Marie shrugged. "I talked to Sheng-jou." "Did you! When?" "After we spied on her with the gardeners. She said every woman does it with men. She said it's great fun, and sometimes you get a baby." "Father would punish you if he knew." Marie regarded her with calculation. "Can he do that from heaven?" Belle took breath to affirm it but, thinking quickly, held her peace. If she established such a theology, she would give them as much ammunition against herself as she might gain against them. "Is Father really dead?" asked Jill. Though a question, it was the first expression among them of their terrible loss. Belle sighed and admitted regretfully, "It seems that Mr. Higgins is the only man from the ship left alive." All three turned to look down the beach, where the man's figure had dwindled to a barely discernible dot. Only later that night on her bed of rustling fronds did Belle think of this conversation and the remarkable change overtaking shy Marie. For the next several days Jake brought them bananas, coconuts and breadfruit twice a day. They didn't care for the breadfruit, for which he apologized, claiming it was much better cooked. The mound on the beach became their "trading post," according to Jill, though they gave the man nothing further in exchange for the food. Thunderstorms struck at night, each time leaving the girls miserable in their roofless campsite. Their two- fruit diet, plus the shrinking remains of the hardtack, became increasingly monotonous. * * * "Marie!" The girl whirled at the exasperated tone in Belle's voice, to find the eldest glaring, hands on hips. "I can't believe you are so careless!" Marie took a breath. "What, now?" "Just look over your shoulder at the back of your petticoat." She looked, and expended the recent breath in a sigh. "Oh." Belle approached her, hand extended. "Take it off." "H-help me, won't you, so I don't get it on me?" "Huh! It's your blood. It's on you!" Nevertheless Belle held the hem of the garment away from the girl's plump body while lifting it over her head. "You can just take it down to the surf and wash it out, careless one." "I am not careless! I couldn't help it." "I'm sorry, dear. You do bleed a lot, don't you? Wipe between your legs with the front of the skirt. You are careless for not counting the days. It's always 29 days from one start to the next." "We have no calendar." "Then make marks on a tree as I do." Belle watched as the girl drew the garment between her legs. Passing under the crotch, it acquired an additional reddish- brown streak. Marie's body was changing, with delicate pubic hair and mammary growths that promised to rival Belle's own. "I don't understand it," Belle groused. "You're not quite thirteen, but already this is your fourth curse. I was almost 14 before my first one." "Sheng-jou said that my plumpness was the cause." "Maybe so, but it is strange." "What can I do about it, Belle? We have no rag bag." "I guess you'll have to go naked and wipe yourself with those fuzzy leaves." "For a week? But what about Mr. Higgins?" "So far he respects our retreat. Even if he does glimpse you, I think it will be all right if you stay well away from him. Keep in mind, he's not very tame." "What will you do when it's turn?" "That will be in another six days. The same, I suppose." Jill came dashing among the trees. "Come see what Jake has--" She halted suddenly with wide eyes. "Why is Marie naked?" "Jake?" Belle demanded incredulously. "You called him ?" Jill retorted righteously, "It's only what he to call him. His name is Jacob Higgins." "You've been talking to him! Jill, you bad girl!" Belle grimaced with disgust. "I'm tempted to turn you over my knee." The youngest backed away by a step or two. She announced sullenly, "He caught a big fish." "Now just how could he do that? We have all the fish hooks." "He made a spear, like the Hoy-uns taught him." " the Hoy-uns -- The who?" "The Hoy-uns, or something like that. He lived on their island once. Marie, that's blood on your leg." Jill's eyes widened. "It's fresh! When did he have time to do that? I've been with him since he caught the fish." Marie shook her head. "He didn't do it. It's my curse. 'Jake,' huh?" "Your what?" The youngest sidled closer, stooping. "Oh. I forgot." "The curse of Eve," said Belle, hand falling on Jill's shoulder and pulling her back. "It happens to all of us. Your turn is coming in a couple years." "Jake, too?" "'All of ,' I said. "Men don't get it, the lucky things! God only blamed Eve." "Why was that, Belle? Adam sinned, too, didn't he?" "Father said it's because God was more disappointed with Eve. He expects women to be more righteous." Despite her question, Jill proved more interested in the practical issue. "You made a rag bag for Marie on the ship." "Yes, but we don't have one here." Jill nodded confidently. "Jake knows all kinds of stuff. I'll ask him what you should use." "You will !" Belle nearly screamed. "You stay away from him, do you hear me? Don't talk to him about this. Only women have this problem." Jill shrugged. "All right," she murmured placatingly. She took breath and added, "Jake said to tell you that it's a big fish with plenty for everyone. He had to take it to his camp where he has a fire to cook it. If we meet him near it when the sun is there" -- she pointed to a part of the sky -- "he'll give us warm fish to eat." "He has a fire?" "I guess. I didn't go far away!" Marie declaimed, "Oh, I am tired of coconuts and hardtack!" Belle sighed. "So am I." "But I'm naked!" Marie added in consternation. Belle shook her head. "You can't go naked." "But I want some fish! I can, too! I can stay behind a tree and you can bring me some." Jill remarked, "Jake said he could bring some back here, but it would be cold." "I want it warm," Marie asserted. Belle sighed. "All right. But you'll have to stay behind me." * * * Rounding the sand spit, Belle stopped to survey the rocks piled on the other side of the cove and the narrow beach extending into its interior, and realized for the first time how religiously the sisters had clung to their own campsite. It had been six -- or was it seven? -- days since the shipwreck, and the impulse to explore this land had never occurred to any of them. A feminine caution? Perhaps. If so, it stemmed from the dread of encountering their wild companion in unsafe circumstances. This brought a bitter smile to her lips. Where exactly they safe, if he should wish to assault them? She was not so foolish as to suppose that all three together could prevail against him if he were sober and determined, except perhaps by means of the pistol whose box she had opened and immediately reclosed. Yet here they were, down the beach almost "as far as they could go," his directions to Jill. Certainly none of them could pass the rocks on the far side of the cove. Jill, who had pressed ahead on the trek, now hung back, looking to the eldest for guidance. Belle took a deep breath and directed the naked Marie, "Get behind me. Jill, help me shield her." The youngest sidled close and the three girls walked cautiously along the narrowing beach into the shade of the hill. Soon they were beyond the crashing surf and could hear the buzz of insects and the trill of birds other than the raucous gulls. Jill was first to see the smoke. She pointed up the hill. "There he is. Jake!" she called in her shrillest voice, cupping her mouth with her hands. "Jake, we're here!" The man came into view beside puffs of smoke shredded by the wind. He smiled widely and plunged down the hill in a few wide bounds. Shortly he stood on the sand a few yards before them. His face showed his delight. "You did come!" "I told you we're tired of coconuts," said Jill. "Well, I think the fish is about done. Come on up and help me eat it." They all looked at Belle. Without smiling she said to the man, "Thank you, Mr. Higgins. Will you show us the way?" "My pleasure, Miss Meron. If you ladies will follow me, I've pretty well worn a path this week." "Ladies!" whispered Jill derisively, glancing at naked Marie. Indeed he had worn a path up the hillside. In short order they reached the flat ledge of rock. They came first upon a waist-high wall of selected stone, obviously artificial, extending partly across the front of the clearing. "That represents a lot of work," Belle admitted. "What's its purpose?" Jake smiled deprecatingly. "I've been adding to it as I think of it. Perhaps some of you could help. I want to build it high as my head. It'll keep the strong winds off us." He pointed behind them, out to sea. "They come from that direction." Behind the wall they found a circular hut, built of bamboo and partly thatched with woven palm fronds. "I haven't finished this one, but I will in another day. It's for you ladies to sleep out of the weather." He pointed to a framework beyond it. "I've started one for me over there." Belle licked her lips. It was large enough for the three of them, and if the woven roof were half-way water tight it would be a wonderful improvement over no roof at all... but sleeping only ten yards away from ? "Come on." He gestured with his head. "Let's try the fish." He led them to a spot in the center of the ledge. A small fire burned nearby, but the man's objective was a low heap of stones beside it. Protecting his hands with a folded palm frond, he knelt and removed several stones from the top, revealing a strip of white flesh bubbling in its own juices. The fitful breeze could not entirely dissipate the savory odor of broiled fish meat that suddenly filled the air. "You heated the rocks first," Belle remarked with interest. "Yes, and it will surprise you how long they stay hot!" He took up a stick that had been cut just after a triple branching, obviously his fork, and pointed to several flat pieces of slate. He smiled. "That's the best I could do for dinner plates, but they're clean. Pick up one and let me serve you." His method, using the forked branch and the huge knife point together, was to pry a section of backbone and the associated ribs away from a selected fillet, then slice the meat itself free before forking it onto the "plate" of the supplicant. "If it's not salty enough," he told Jill, who of course was first, "dip your fingers in that coconut husk and sprinkle some sea-water on it. I'm afraid you must eat with your fingers." A blissful expression appeared on the child's face at the first mouthful -- before her eyes flew open and her breath puffed loudly in and out. "Yes, it's hot," he agreed. "You should blow on it first. Here, drink this juice." When Jill was settled, Marie was next. She approached the impromptu oven shielded by her elder. Belle looked back to coordinate their kneeling, but with a grunt of impatience, the drooling adolescent skipped around her sister and dropped to a squat directly across the oven from Jake, careless of the brown streaks exposed on her inner thighs. She extended her slate hopefully. Jake looked inquiringly at the discomfited Belle. "Did, ah, something happen to all her clothes?" The young woman sniffed. "I believe you can see what the trouble is. But she had to have warm fish." The man went ahead and filled Marie's plate but said to her elder, "She needs to do what the wahines do. So will you." "The who?" "The girls of the Hawaiian Islands. They make disposable skirts out of large leaves, such as palm fronds, which don't show stains. But if one does get dirty they just whip up another. I've seen a girl make a new one in half a minute." Belle agreed dryly, "I'm sure you have! Do you possess this skill?" "Well, I never made a skirt before, but the Hawaiians taught me how to weave leaves with screw-pine shoots." He indicated the half-completed roof of the nearby hut. "Let me serve you this meal and I'll see about making your sister a skirt." "My name is Clister Marie," Marie announced around a mouthful of fish. When her trademark blush did not appear, he commented, "I thought you were the shy one." "I'm not shy," the girl retorted, staring into his eyes, "and I don't say, 'No.'" "Marie!" cried her elder. "You certainly do say, 'No!' Mr. Higgins, I would fancy this part in the middle. Can you, ah, skip ahead?" "It's no trouble," he assured her after sparing a glance at Marie's budding breasts. So this was the one who had checked on him after the storm? As she ate, Belle glanced around at Jill and smiled. "I guess now we know who the 'Hoyuns' are." "The who?" asked Jake. "Jill told us you said the 'Hoyuns' taught you to spear fish." Jill tossed her head. "I said, 'Or something like that.'" "I see." Jake smiled at the child. "She was so excited at my good luck." Belle remarked politely, "Captain Norris showed us the Hawaiian Islands on his charts. You visited them, perhaps?" He nodded around his own mouthful of fish. "Yes, about five years ago. I lived there for six months and learned a lot about the people of all these islands." "Are you sure this is an island?" "Oh, yes. One of the northernmost Marquesas. I found a note left by the captain that told where the ship foundered." "Where are the Marquesas?" "Just about in the middle of the Pacific Ocean." "Do you know if they're inhabited?" "Some of them. An American discovered them but I heard we let the French have them a few years ago. I guess we don't want to be bothered. From the way you speak English I believe you're American." "I am. And Marie. Jill was born in China. She's both. How can we contact the French?" He shrugged. "By going where they are, which will be one of the larger islands. If we hadn't lost that sailboat... Miss Meron, of all my sins, letting a little squall blow that boat away was the worst." "That's a matter of opinion, sir! What sailboat?" "The lifeboat you rode ashore was also fitted as a centerboard sloop. We could have gone in it!" He studied her thoughtfully. "One of your sisters, I now think Marie, came to me after the storm and told me what I had done." He shook his head. "It made me sick at heart. How I hated to believe it!" Her eyes flashed. "You... You claim you don't ?" "I do not remember, and I hope this is some consolation to you." "Consolation! It makes me furious. How dare you deny it! You me, sir. You hurt me and made me bleed." He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "I don't deny it. I just don't recall it. I can remember drinking rum and singing that silly song about the Boston lass, which I'll be first to admit is unfit for ladies' ears. I can... even remember thinking that I was like a sheik alone with my harem on an island. But then it's all blank. Miss Meron, don't you know that after too much drink a person doesn't remember what he does? No, of course not. You are too young and too well raised to have such experience." She had heard servants talk about this phenomenon, but that he might be speaking truth infuriated her even more. Could he forget such harm as that? She gritted her teeth and suggested, "Feel of the back of your head." He started to raise his hand. "You mean the new cut?" "Yes. One of my sisters struck you with the edge of a coconut husk while you were doing your worst to me. It cut the back of your head, in the middle." He stared at her. "Did that stop me?" "You rolled off me and lay on your back, unconscious, for many hours, until the storm came after dark." He sighed and lowered his head. "Miss Meron, I am... sorry. I hate it that I have treated you so." He turned partly away. "I ask you to believe that I hate it as much as you do." She snorted in her anger. "How can you say that?" He sighed again, put down his slate of fish half-eaten, walked over to the wall and leaned against it, his head sagging. Jill, her eyes following him with interest, looked beyond him and suddenly straightened. "What's that way out there?" she demanded. "Out where?" asked Marie. "There, at the end of the world." She used the Chinese expression for , translated literally to English. Even Jake looked up. He jumped fully erect. "My god, a ship!" he cried, turning with wild eyes toward the fire. "Quick, bring me green leaves, all you can tear off!" Belle took a moment for a single glance. She could make out tiny white sails, the kind she had always seen at the tops of masts, hardly more than a dot perched on the horizon. She hurried to gather leaves, as directed, and brought them with her sisters to Jake beside the fire. He was fanning the fire while raking in dead grass along with the dry leaves that had collected on the forest floor. "Throw yours on a few at the time," he ordered. "We want to make a lot of smoke. Just don't smother the fire." Together they worked until the clearing was choked with gray clouds despite the fitful breeze. His shirt was soaked with sweat and spotted with soot when he raised both hands toward the girls at last and declared between gasps for breath, "There! If that doesn't do it, nothing will." They all ran to the wall while their smoke streamed into the sky above them. The distant ship had moved through a noticeable angle. Reluctantly Jake had to admit to himself that the sails were smaller. The second to'gallant spar that had been barely visible before was now sunk below the curve of the Earth. They watched for a long time. Finally Marie said sorrowfully, "It's not coming back for us, is it?" Jake sighed and shook his head. "No, my dear, she is not. If a lookout is even aloft, he won't see our smoke now unless he's looking for it... Oh, god, I've done it again! I took my eyes off the sea too long and never saw her until she was already pulling away." With another sigh he turned back to the fire and removed the worst smoldering leaves to the bare ledge to die out. When he raised up, he found Belle waiting for him. "At least, Mr. Higgins, this should give us hope. If one ship came by, surely another will follow." Slowly he nodded. "Thank you. That is about the best face we can put on it." "Mr. Higgins, if... if that ship had returned, wouldn't you be placed in danger?" He regarded her curiously. "What danger?" "You yourself said that you might hang for... for what you did to me." He straightened with a sigh. "I guess that would depend on you and your sisters, Miss Meron." "The fish tastes good," said Marie with relish, arriving with the last of her serving in hand and mouth. "Jake, were you going to make me a skirt?" * * * Marie was thrilled with her new vegetable attire and pranced about the clearing, causing the skirt to sway and to open and close seductively about her shapely legs. Jill watched only briefly with gaping mouth before predictable words issued from it. "I want one, too!" The youngest jumped from one foot to the other in excitement. Jake smiled at her and within minutes she was clad in a skirt of leaves, having exhibited no hesitation at all in doffing the petticoat, now no longer white. The chests of both girls were left naked. Belle drew a long breath, regarding them with ill-concealed horror. How indecent for her sisters to be so displayed in the presence of a man! It's just another step in the descent toward savagery, she groused to herself, although with a sigh she did accept the fact of it. At least Marie's bottom was now concealed -- most of the time. She admitted that they looked quite fetching in their new garb. The bright green skirt contrasted pleasantly with their pale torsos. Jill's flat chest was adorned with roseate nipples only slightly swollen, suggesting what was to come within a year or so. Marie's small breasts, not yet half formed, were soft cones of flesh, too immature to jiggle, much less sag. Yes, the girls were indeed lovely, she concluded, in their half naked, savage state. But she resented Higgin's undisguised ogling. "Need you stare so?" she demanded angrily as they stood apart from the girls who frolicked together a few yards away. "It is an innocent look upon an equally innocent sight, Miss Meron," the man replied with a new confidence, now that the girls had joined him on the ledge. After all, had not been the one to fetch Marie here naked! "May I weave a skirt for you?" He almost smirked. "You presume too much, Mr. Higgins," Belle responded with a venomous hiss of such intensity that the man was taken aback. "In the islands," he said quickly, reassuming a penitent tone, "the display of breasts is not considered obscene." "That may be, but we are only transients on this island, sir, and while we must accommodate ourselves to the circumstances, my sisters and I shall not revert to savagery." Belle was seething. "Yes, of course, ma'am," he hurried to agree, addressing the young woman as if she were an imperious aunt. "Mr. Higgins," Belle continued in the same tone, looking sternly into Jake's well-worn face, "it is unacceptable for you to build your shelter up here on the ledge so close to ours. I would prefer it down nearer the beach." Jake lacked the credible authority to protest her decision, and so he just nodded. Belle noted with a measure of satisfaction that his face had lost its aura of pleasure. "We'll move in tomorrow," she announced, "if you'll finish our roof. Will that be today, sir?" "Yes'm," Jake mumbled. "But won't you ladies please have some more fish?" Belle shepherded her sisters again to the fire, gratified by Higgins ready submission, but wondering how long it would last. CHAPTER 5 Cross-currents -------------- A week passed and then another. Belle came to dread the morning, the return from slumber, because the day promised nothing. Each was like the one before, equal in the squalidness that she had to endure. She had no chair to sit on, no books to read, no one even to talk with whose ideas had not already been expressed many times, except perhaps the man, and Belle was queasy of ideas. As for music the girls had begun to sing naughty ditties taught by Higgins, who seemed ominously to be always near them. "The Boston lass has learned the knack "Of catching doodles in her crack. "Though easy to flee from her hot pen, "It has to be hard to first get in." Jill's piping voice: "Is that a riddle, Jake?" She was weary, very weary of her life, and she despaired of ever leaving the island. She worried about the girls, about Higgins, who though tame at the moment had proven himself capable of excess, but mostly about Higgins and the girls. She awakened each morning with hope, only to find that it was reality which had become the horrible nightmare. The girls seemed happy enough, however, playing all day at the beach and in the trees, fully tanned now and bare breasted as savages, with Higgins always about, playing with them, often caressing their arms, shoulders and buttocks in a presumably fatherly manner, to the neglect of his work on their camp. To her the odious man seemed a wild cat stalking small game; he was deciding which of her sisters was more vulnerable to his lust. She had not bathed in days. Her garment was soiled with the stain of her curse, and her hair was a tangle. At least Higgins had cut short the hair of the girls, using his huge knife. They were children and trusted the hand that fed them not to harm them, reminding her of the puppies she had fed tenderly in Hanchow. But she knew better. She had vehemently refused Higgins' gesture toward her own head. * * * "Higgins," Belle called to the man one morning as he played with Jill and Marie next to the hut on the ledge. "Higgins, when are you going to fix the roof so that it doesn't leak? When will we have benches to sit upon and perhaps a table?" "I'll get to it soon enough, Belle," he replied flippantly, deliberately using her first name without invitation. "Man, are you expecting a rescue?" she shrieked suddenly, causing the two girls to look up in concern at their elder sister. "Should we pile our meager goods on the beach to await the coming of a ship?" Jake sniffed disdainfully, shrugged and turned away from the distraught young woman, but Marie rose to her feet, went over and embraced her sister lovingly. She looked back and admonished in a voice no longer shy, "Yes, Jake, we must assume that we'll be here for a long while. We have to make this place decent to live in." "I'll help," Jill offered in her little girl voice. "Let's do it then," Marie responded, incongruously a leader, if only for an instant. "Belle, go bathe and wash your petticoat while we fix up our house." Belle felt a spark of hope. At least it was not Higgins giving the orders. She rose from the ground where she had leaned against a rock and went down the path to the beach. She removed her petticoat before plunging into the sea, almost calm this morning. She would soon be sixteen years old -- in the same week that Jill would turn eleven, a date that she had misplaced in their troubles and which was possibly already gone. She splashed knee high in the sea and rubbed her maturing body clean. The water was refreshing, rejuvenating and she felt again gay as a teenager should be. She stooped and submerged her head in the cool water, staying under until she needed to breath. She moved deeper into the ocean until gentle swells struck her neck and bounced her feet from the sandy bottom. Looking back at the ledge above the cove she could make out Higgins -- Jake -- working on the roof of her shack at last. The sight pleased her and she grasped her breasts, a generous handful each, and squeezed them, causing a tingle between her legs. It was the perfect time to do it, she said to herself, the most perfect time. Belle allowed herself to cry aloud without inhibition as her finger brought forth a tremendous pleasure. Only the gulls in the sky above could hear her, and they didn't care. It was sufficient, that orgasm, to bring the young woman back to her senses. She stooped again under the water and then jumped up high with her lovely arms above her head. She was almost young once more -- except for what that had done to her! Well, if she had to be so adult... In a fit of naughtiness, driven by curiosity, she inserted first two fingers, then three into her vagina, accommodating them with ease and more importantly without pain. She would like to feel something more interesting there, but Jake was the only man about. Belle scrubbed her petticoat near the sea shore and then sauntered confidently up the beach to the small fall of fresh water that emptied onto the sand. Above her the man paused in his frond tying. She knew that he was looking down at her nakedness, and her reaction to that knowledge surprised herself. She walked slower and thrust out her chest. She rinsed the salt off body and garment in the chill spray of the fall, then stepped back almost out of breath from the shock of it. But the petticoat did not conceal her as she meant. It was wet and clung to her breasts, her stomach, hips and upper thighs. The shape of her was obvious. She set her chin and ascended the path to the ledge nevertheless. "Higgins," she called out to the man on the roof, who gaped down at her with a slack mouth, "how's it going with the thatch?" He mumbled something which she did not bother to hear. What she wanted from him was the unconcealed longing on his face as his eyes raked her figure. Carefully she avoided naming what she felt in response as she turned away to pull down a banana. * * * The four of them worked together on the small structure until it was decent, given the circumstances. Belle continued to flaunt her body, letting him see her naked from a distance or "forgetting" to lace closed the upper part of her petticoat, tormenting the man she despised but the only man available. He was three times her age, hardly taller than she, with a body scrawny although wiry and tough. His face was worn by time and excess. But when she thought of his penis, of which she knew the gauge, her body trembled. She gave her head a sharp jerk to remind herself that she was still a civilized, proper young woman. Belle recovered from her depression once the hut was finished. Jill and Marie came back to her, somehow knowing how she needed them as they had once depended upon her. For a few days Higgins was left out of their doings, and they began again to speak Chinese among themselves in his presence. No one mentioned Father's prohibition. One afternoon a blood-curdling scream rang through the clearing. Belle, dozing in the shade of the hut, sprang wide-eyed out the opening. She heard pounding footsteps as Higgins raced up the path to the ledge. Behind him came Jill. Where was Marie? The scream sounded again, from the trees off to the right. "Marie's in trouble," she called to the approaching man, and dashed through the underbrush toward the cry. She pulled up short in the little clearing containing the trench Jake had dug for the girls to relieve themselves. Marie stood backed against the boulder behind the hole, on the lip of which lay coiled a black snake, its fat body circled with thin yellow bands, the inflated head weaving before the girl in an S-curve. Marie, flattened against the rock, threw back her head and screamed again. The man arrived, puffing for breath, and briefly examined the scene. He grinned at Belle. "They've trapped each other." "Well, something!" He nodded, leaned across the narrow trench and caught the reptile's neck just behind the head with one accurate swipe of his hand. When he raised the hand, curiously the animal seemed to relax so that its body hung straight down into the hole. Belle dashed around him and caught her sister up in her arms. Marie hugged the elder and burst into sobs against her shoulder. Belle turned to regard Jake. "Kill it!" she ordered, eyes glinting. His eyebrows rose. "But it's only a mangrove snake, hardly even venomous, and it eats scorpions, which can kill ." "Then what will you do with it? Turn it loose to bite one of us later -- as I did with you?" The young woman's expression was fierce, her tone contemptuous. The man shrugged. "Have it your way." He drew the long knife from his belt, decapitated the snake against the boulder, and threw the now writhing body into the underbrush. Marie freed herself from Belle's embrace and snuggled against the man instead. "Thank you, Jake, thank you," she murmured. "You saved my life." "Hardly that," he replied reassuringly, his arm stealing around her. He looked inquiringly at Belle, who turned away. Jill regarded her from the path. "Did Jake really catch the snake with his bare hand?" Her voice was expressive of purest awe. Belle bit back the retort that formed on her lips, to the effect that one snake might readily catch another, and pushed past the youngest. Behind her she heard Jill declare breathlessly, "Jake, you must be the bravest man in the world!" Belle awoke late on the next morning and found the girls gone. A quick survey disclosed them down on the beach playing with Higgins. Both were naked. Even the leaf skirts were becoming too much trouble. She sighed, thinking she really must take them to task about that. At least the man wore his tattered uniform britches, though he had long since left off his shirt. The hair on his chest was beginning to gray in the manner of his beard and was nearly as thick. Even at this distance she could see Marie flaunt her immature body at the old man, sidling up to him in the shallow water near the shore, rubbing her hand, then her chest, across his bare back. Belle watched for a long while but she never saw Jake respond to the obvious invitations. He seemed to be more inclined to favor little Jill, whose golden head did not reach his shoulders, who was too innocent to know about flaunting one's body, or so Belle thought -- though one could never be sure about Jill. Perhaps she should join their games herself and deflect Jake's attention from her younger sisters. But what if he overreacted? Now was a good time to do something she had been planning. In the hut, under her mattress that was a litter of leaves covered by abandoned clothing, she had hidden the pistol box. It had been saved along with most of the other articles Higgins had left on the beach when his mind had turned to rape. By now all the rest had been shared with the man. She thought it was curious that he had never asked about the pistol. A last look down to the beach revealed the others carousing in the relatively quiet waters of the cove. Jill was perched on the man's shoulders while Marie seemed intent on pulling her off. Belle resolutely put from her mind the thought of so much naked flesh in contact, went into the hut and retrieved the box from her bedding. When she pried it open with her too-long fingernails, the well-oiled pistol gleamed evilly at her. A year ago, with his wife dead, her father in sudden resolution had shown her how to load the pistol he kept in his bedside drawer, a breech-loader with ball, paper cartridge and percussion cap, and even allowed her to fire it a few times for familiarization. This one was different, larger and heavier, a revolving repeater made by the Colts Firearms Company, but it operated on principles identical with her father's single-shot. It was loaded. She proceeded to unload it, noting the location of the parts of each load removed. Its hammer had to be manually cocked, just like Father's, except that the action of cocking it rotated the revolving cylinder to place another ball-cartridge-cap combination in line with the barrel. How marvelous! It would shoot five times without reloading. Carefully she restored the five loads to the weapon, noting that the box contained spares adequate for three full reloads. She knew how to use it and felt confident of defending herself and her sisters against an animal, though from the wild results of her previous shooting she doubted that she could save Marie from a snake without harming the child. But to use it was not the question. Could she deliberately harm a man? More to the point, could she shoot Jacob Higgins even to save one of her sisters? * * * The rising sun usually woke Jake from the hammock he had woven of screw-pine runners and slung between two palms on the edge of the beach. But not today. He opened his eyes to the gray light of a solidly overcast sky. Everything was motionless. The palm fronds hung listlessly above him in the still air. Only the relentless surf moved, thudding and splashing on the strand. He had no way of knowing how much farther past dawn he had slept than usual, except that the pressure in his bladder could not be ignored. He got down and strolled out on the beach to survey his world. Though naked, he had not wandered far from the spear and long knife still in the hammock. All colors were muted. The clouds were an even dark gray, not a storm portent, just bad sailing weather. He smiled grimly as he lifted penis to make water well away from his feet. At least he had no sailing to do. The other problem with windless days was the biting flies, but they had yet to realize their opportunity. "Let me guide it," suggested a girlish voice. "I know how." He turned quickly to see Marie nearly upon him, also naked. Her tanned skin was dark as a wahine's in this light. "What do you mean?" he asked her. She slipped behind him and pressed against his left hip. Her hand covered his own on the flaccid manhood. "Let me do it," she said again. With a shrug Jake left her a clear field. She grasped the organ behind the glans, withdrawing the foreskin and directed the stream up and down. As is common in men who have just held their water for many hours, his flow was thin but enduring. She described rounded block letters, joined together at the bases, before the stream became a useless dribble. "C M M," he read. "What does it mean?" "Clister Marie Meron, my initials," she responded in her clear soprano, grinning up at him. Her fingers gripped him and began to slide the skin back and forth. He caught her wrist in his hand. "Your sister would slip her hawser if she saw us." "What does that mean?" asked the girl, flexing her wrist to manipulate him despite his hold. He could feel tendons working in the small arm -- and a tightening in his groin. "If a ship slips its hawser -- in a storm, say -- it's out of control. Better quit that, honey." "I can feel it growing," she noted. "Belle's still asleep." It required an act of will to pull her hand away from him, but at last he managed it. He took a shaky breath. His organ stood straight out. "Ooo, it's so big!" the girl breathed with wide eyes. He grunted. "As if you never saw it hard before!" "Only the time you put it into Belle. It was her first time, you know. No wonder it hurt her!" He sighed and shook his head. "I'd give anything if I hadn't done that." "Why did you?" He threw out his hands. "Because I was drunk. I didn't really know what I was doing." Marie cocked her head at him thoughtfully. She stood with one hand on a hip. In the windless air he could smell her: a tantalizing hint of spice. This was very nearly a woman, he realized: respectable tits even if the nipples were yet tiny, along with a small tuft of pubic hair. She had already bled at least once to his certain knowledge. "Is that what it takes?" she asked. "For what?" "Do you have to be drunk to put your thing into one of us?" "Wh-what?" Her lip curled. "Wu Fong didn't need any rum. Why do you?" "I don't... You girls are..." His voice died in confusion. Did she truly want fucking? "Huh!" she sneered, pivoting on her heel and running lightly out of sight toward the cove. * * * Jake used a large slab of slate discovered earlier to construct an impromptu griddle over the fire. He patiently dribbled sea water over the hot slab while the fire raged under it. This was new and Jill was curious. She cocked her head at the hissing dribbles, each of which dried quickly, leaving a white ring, and asked, "Why are you trying to cool it and heat it at the same time?" "I'm not. This sea water leaves salt on the slate. Eggs are no good without salt." "Eggs! Do we have eggs?" "Yes, my poodle. I found a cache of turtle eggs laid just last night." "Turtle eggs? Are they any good?" "The best eggs in the world. You'll find out." "Did you see the mother turtle lay them?" "No. She covered them up but she was careless even so. She didn't hide her tracks up from the water, which were new since yesterday." "Did you find enough for everybody?" "Oh, yes: nearly two dozen. Damn!" The fire spat an ember onto his thigh. He brushed it quickly off his britches but the spot was smoking. He unfastened the waistband and nearly ripped the garment from his body, cursing the while. He bent and threw water onto the source of the smoke, then inspected his leg. The girl bent also. "Did it burn you?" "No. But it would have." He put his hand into the britches leg and pushed a finger through the new hole. "If this keeps on," he groused, "pretty soon I'll be naked as you." "You naked as me!" He shook his head, turning his genitals away from her. "I'm sorry, poodle. I don't mean to worry you." "Worry me? I don't mind it. Why do you have to wear britches all the time anyway?" "It's... just better if I do," he answered after a moment's pause, spreading the garment's waist before stepping into it. "I don't know why you think so. I like to see your jiggle." "You shouldn't notice such things. Especially you shouldn't talk about them." He refastened the waistband. "I don't mention how your crack ripples." "Ripples? It ripples like water?" "No, not like water. I guess a better word is 'flexes.' Like a sail when the ship comes about." "Like what?" "When you walk, the sides stretch different. It's easy to see from behind. Can't you feel it?" Both the child's hands darted between her legs. She looked up into the man's eyes. "Show me what it does." He grinned and shook his head. "All you have to do is walk." She turned away and stumbled across the clearing, hands pressed to her labia. At that moment Belle emerged, stretching, from the hut, wearing her customary tattered petticoat. Her eyes widened at sight of Jill. "What's wrong, honey? Are you hurt?" She swung glinting eyes toward the man. The girl answered in Chinese without swerving from her path. The eldest responded in the same language. They conducted a short dialog consisting of obvious demands from Belle and ever shorter answers from the child, who turned suddenly and slunk past her sister into the hut. Belle approached the man. "Higgins, did you tell my sister that her vaginal lips ?" He stared at her, his mouth working. At last he admitted, "When she walks. It's only the truth." The young woman took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed. "Can't you discuss something else with her?" He drew breath also. "We did: turtle eggs." "Turtle... eggs?" "I found some. That's what I'm doing: getting ready to fry them. We'll have a feast for supper." Belle stared at him and visibly swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was less harsh. "I'm so tired of coconut and bananas!" He dropped his eyes. "I've not had much luck with fish lately. But I think you'll like these eggs. The Hawaiians taught me how to cook them... And I'm about ready to start. Why don't you call your sisters, Miss Meron?" The feast was a culinary success. Jake also grilled sliced breadfruit for them to use as edible plates. All the eggs were eaten, washed down with coconut milk and fresh water from the cut in the rocks. Distant clouds were crimson from the sun setting behind the hill when Jake leaned his elbows upon the unfinished storm wall beside Belle, who was staring out to the sea's knife-edged horizon. "Any ships?" he asked jocularly. "No, more's the pity." "Are you so anxious to leave our little paradise, Miss. Meron?" "Oh, god, if we could only leave!" He sighed and mumbled glumly, "I'm sorry, ma'am." She turned to regard him. "Please don't think me ungrateful for all you have done, Mr. Higgins. I'm aware that you have saved our lives many times over. We couldn't live here without you. This delicious meal was a strong reminder. I'm grateful also to the Hawaiians who taught you." "They are friendly people," he noted, smiling in pleasure at her words, the warmest she had ever directed to him. "They must have been, to teach you so well." "I owe most of it to their women." "Their women?" "They were the friendly ones. They cotton to a stranger right off." "I see." Her face hardened. "Did they teach you to expect that from all women?" "Well, no. I know better than that." "Is that why you expected me to enjoy your attentions, Mr. Higgins?" He sighed. "Miss. Meron, I am very sorry about that. I've told your sisters how I wished many times it never happened." "Especially since you can't remember it anyway!" A red spot appeared suddenly on both her cheeks. He dropped his eyes and suggested softly, "I think it would be worse if I could remember it." "Oh, no!" She laughed bitterly. "Then you could compare me to your friendly Hawaiian women." He gaped at her. "Would you like ?" She turned her gaze back to the ocean, her lips forming a thin line. "Miss Meron, I... uh..." "You have already apologized. What more is there to say?" He took a breath. "A lot, actually. May I understand that you enjoyed the eggs?" "Yes, thank you." "I'm glad you did. Eating is a simple pleasure, isn't it? But all we have now are simple pleasures. Would you..." "Would I what?" "We could give each other a great deal of pleasure, Miss Meron." She did not look at him. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Higgins?" "You..." His voice softened almost to inaudibility. "You are a very desirable woman." She kept her eyes turned away. Her voice was bitter. "And you might as well be the only man in the world." He grunted. "A poor choice, is it?" " choice!" "There's always the choice between 'yes' and 'no.'" Her lip curled. "Haven't you already denied me that one?" "Perhaps I did once, Miss Meron." He shook his head. "But you must have noticed: now I can deny you nothing." She turned at last to study his face. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking. I've stuck close to camp because... you ladies might need protection, but we need to find out where we are and what's here with us. I want to explore this island but I want to take all of you with me. If it doesn't rain tomorrow, I propose to climb our hill to the top and look around. Will you come with me?" The young woman nodded slowly. "Yes, Mr. Higgins. We'll come." * * * The girls each wore a petticoat. The hill presented few challenges to climb, but the often steep slope was heavily wooded, reducing the reliable breeze to an occasional flutter. Soon the two youngest were naked, their petticoats left to adorn bushes for retrieval on the return path. Belle pressed doggedly on, using the hem of hers to wipe perspiration from her brow whenever she thought the man's attention was otherwise engaged. "Why don't you just take it off?" Jill asked. "Jake won't mind, would you, Jake?" Smiling, the man looked away. Jill added, "She would if you would, too, Jake." He was even wearing his armless shirt. "That's enough!" barked Belle. Jake suggested deferentially, "There's no reason for you to be uncomfortable, Miss. Meron." Belle's retort was acid. "Isn't there, Mr. Higgins?" Eventually the trees died away to low brush. The two youngest pushed through the tangle and arrived first at the crest. The other two were right behind them. It was apparent that they occupied the north-eastern half of a pair of islands with a narrow channel between them. From the pinnacle they could see the strip of white sand that encircled their own islet except directly behind them, where oddly the slope was steepest. Jill asked, "Is that really another island?" "Yes, my poodle. About the same size as this one." "What's wrong with its beaches?" "She's right!" exclaimed Belle. "They're black! How can that be, Mr. Higgins?" "Not really black. Seen close to your eyes, the sand's a mixture. It's caused by the kind of rock in that hill. I've seen the same in Hawaii." "The devil's work!" Belle declared. "Perhaps you would know." Something in his voice caused her to regard him suspiciously. He was grinning at her. She smiled also. "Do you think I have his acquaintance, Mr. Higgins?" "No, but I wish I did. If so I would offer him a bargain." "Is your soul so unusual?" He shook his head. "Whatever it's worth in exchange for wafting you wherever you want to go." "Mr. Higgins!" Marie pointed. "Look! A ship!" Everyone spun about to gaze as she had directed. The sails in the north appeared similar to the last they had seen: only the topmost. The ship's hull and mains were well down below the curve of the Earth. "Is it coming toward us?" Belle asked anxiously. "No. She's moving to the east," the man stated. "How can you be sure?" "Because of the spread between the masts. If her path was in line with us, the masts would be together." "You have good eyes," Belle admitted. "A sailor needs good eyes." They watched it for a long while. Jake proved correct. "What's wrong with that cloud?" asked Marie. Now she was looking south. When the others turned, she pointed to a small cloud low on the horizon. "All the others are moving except that one." "That's not just a cloud," answered Jake. "See the dark smudge underneath it? That's the next island of the Marquesas." "How far away is it?" He shrugged. "That's probably a hilltop like this one. It could be as much as 30 miles." "What's the name of our island?" asked Jill. "I think this is the northern-most one. I'm sure I've seen its name on charts but I don't remember it. The Pacific has too many islands." Belle sighed. "Now we know." "Know what?" asked Jill. "That we're stuck here. These islands are too small. People will never come." Tears welled in her eyes, overflowed her eyelashes and ran down her cheeks. Marie came to her and incongruously gathered the larger girl into her arms. "Remember, Belle, at least we're alive. Out of all the people on the ship, we and Jake are still alive. We can still laugh and cry. They can't. That ought to tell you something. As long as you're still alive, you should never give up hope." CHAPTER 6 Marie's Success --------------- Jake had located a passage around and behind the jagged rocks that formed the south wall of the cove, leading without difficulty down to the southern beach. He had walked that beach, very like the eastern one except for easier surf, as far as the narrowest part of the channel separating theirs from the adjacent island, about 300 yards wide at low tide. He had pitched a coconut hull into the choppy water, hoping to determine the presence of any current that would make swimming it hazardous, but with uncertain results. Thereafter he made it his practice to patrol this beach, too, every two or three days. Returning one afternoon from such a patrol he came upon Marie, sitting naked in the shade of a palm bole. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "What if you run across another snake?" "I'll scream for you." "Did Miss Belle send you?" "No, Jake. No one sent me." She stood up beside him, yawned and stretched with lifted breasts. "I almost fell asleep waiting for you." His eyes were on her tiny pink nipples. She smiled and pinched one between finger and thumb. "It's about the same size as yours," she observed. "As ?" He gaped at her. "I mean the nipple," she retorted impatiently. "Why do men have them at all? They don't suckle babies, do they?" "No. There's an expression: 'Useless as tits on a boar.' In case you don't know, a boar is a male pig. It applies to men, too." "Then why do they have them?" He grinned. "God's mistake. He didn't notice what was hanging below. You want to talk about God? They say He made women second. I claim that tits on a man proves He made women first." But theology did not presently interest her. She smiled. " would notice what was hanging below! Why do you wear your britches when you come down here? No one can see you." He chuckled. "You want me to take them off?" "Sure. I want to hold it again." He shook his head and resumed walking toward the rocks, from this perspective a barrier extending into the sea with no suggestion of the hospitable cove behind it. The girl hurried to walk beside him. Even the smoke from the well-maintained camp fire was invisible from here, dispersed by the breeze, which suggested a poor likelihood that passing ships might notice it -- a thought that he kept to himself. "Don't you have to pee?" she asked. He grunted. "Talk about mistakes! It was mistake to let you hold it before." "Why do you call it a mistake? It was fun, and I know you liked it. It feels good when it swells up, doesn't it?" "Oh, yeah? What do you know about that?" "Wu Fong told me." "You've mentioned him before. He was your father's houseboy in China?" "Yes." "Played 'Show Me' with him, did you?" She looked away, after a moment turning back. "I don't understand, Jake. You're a man. Isn't a man supposed to put his thing into a girl's... What do you call it? The Boston lass calls it a 'crack.' Is that the right name for it?" Pleased by the change of subject, however slight, Jake asked, "Well, what do call it?" She uttered a word of Chinese. He shook his head. "You don't know the English for it, do you?" "We weren't allowed to talk about such things in English. Will you teach me, Jake?" "The names of the private parts?" He chuckled. "Imagine this: Schoolmarm Jake. All right. Just don't tell your sister." He began a lecture on the subject but immediately ran into difficulties over the male parts. She insisted on being . When he had finally agreed to that and proceeded onward with his britches draped over one arm, she jumped in front of him and took the named objects in both her hands at once. "All right," he said, submitting with a gasp when she grew vigorous, "but it's only fair I should point out parts!" Nothing loathe, she laid herself down on the sand before him and spread her legs so far apart that he heard her hips creak. Her hands stretched the labia. "Go ahead," she invited. "What's the part in the middle that tingles?" He knelt before her. "Is it tingling now?" "Touch it and let me see." Tentatively he put a fingertip against the well-formed lump. She quivered. "I guess it is," he noted dryly. "What's it called?" "The clit, or clitoris. Some people say the 'love button.'" "And below that?" He took a deep breath, staring at her. "Marie, do you have any idea what you're doing?" "I know. What do you call my hole?" "Pussy, cunt, vagina... Marie, god damn it..." She rose to a sitting position. Her hand caught his painfully hard manhood. "I know that's where this goes, Jake." He twisted out of her hand and backed away to his feet. They stared at each other. She sat on the soft sand with her legs wide apart, her hand still extended toward the fat penis. "It's really stiff," she breathed. He took a very deep breath and let it out. He grasped her hand in his and pulled her easily to her feet. "Marie, we've got to get going." "Where?" Suddenly she pulled herself to him, her breasts against his chest, her belly depressing his penis so that the glans rested shockingly in the Y of her thighs. She was only half a head the shorter. He took her by the shoulders and set her back at arms' length. "No!" he declared into her face. "I spoiled one of you. Wasn't that hateful enough?" He released her and side-stepped, almost running in his haste toward the rocks. She turned and stood watching him thoughtfully. When he was 50 yards away, he stopped long enough to step back into his britches. "Now I see," she mused incredulously. "It's not the lack of rum. He feels !" * * * When Jake completed his morning swim and splashed out of the surf, he was re-invigorated, ready to work again on moving rock to the storm wall, whose lack of progress had been nagging at him. It must definitely be August by now, he thought, possibly even September. So far they had experienced no storm at all like the one that killed Fleeting Star, only one or two rain squalls every few days, but another was certain to come. But turning toward his britches where he had left them above the strand, he found Marie sitting beside them. As he approached she stared without shame at his genitals. Feeling whimsical, he stopped just before the pubescent temptress and thrust his hips forward. "There! Is that what you want?" She looked up to his face at last. Her eyes were thoughtful. "Yes, but you won't give it to me." He chuckled. "That depends on what you want it for." "You that!" "It has a lot of uses." She grunted. "I know of two: one for you and one for me." "Only two? Did you ever see a cow?" "Of course. We had one in our garden. She had a calf every fall." "Sometimes a woman will play calf." Her eyes, again at his groin, widened slightly. "Look! It's getting fatter." "If you wanted to play calf..." She grinned crookedly. "You'd let me use it for that, would you?" "I was about to say, you might even get some milk." Instead of the incredulity he expected, her reaction was to rise on her knees and capture the entire swelling head in her mouth. He twitched back in automatic reflex but the compression of her lips, with an ominous touch of teeth and the rasp of tongue, held him before her. He raised his eyes to scan the tree line guiltily -- and twitched again. A hundred yards down the beach Jill, golden hair nearly white from exposure to the sun, was rounding the curve from the cove. "Here comes your little sister," he murmured reluctantly. Marie's answer was to cup a testicle in either hand. She had managed somehow to work half the swollen shaft past her lips. He worried that she might choke. He sighed deeply. "Marie, you have to quit or Jill will see you." The girl's shoulders lifted in an expressive shrug. He had to take her head in both hands and force it away, breaking her suction with a distinct plop. "God!" he exclaimed with a shiver. She licked her lips. "Jill would like to watch, you know." "Probably," he agreed dryly, "then she would insist on taking a turn." Marie grinned. "Would you mind that?" He stepped around her and took up his britches. "You've sucked cock before, haven't you?" The girl's eyes were unblinking on his. "And I will again." "Who was it -- your Chinese houseboy?" She smiled slowly. "Yours is salty, Jake." "It just came out of a salty sea." "But I like it. It's so smooth and so big -- a real mouthful!" "I can't believe this." He shook his head as he fastened his waistband. "To think of it in your little mouth!" She opened her mouth wide, a woman's mouth, and wiggled her long tongue at him. "Is it so little, Jake?" Jill ran up to them. She laughed breathlessly as she stuck out her tongue. "Are we making faces for Jake?" * * * Marie lay on her pallet of fronds in the night, gauging the wakefulness of her sisters. A full moon, its pearly light slanting through the doorway whose thatched screen had been removed for the sake of the breeze, illuminated much of the crude hut's interior. Jill lay on her pallet, spread wide as was her wont, hand at a hairless groin, mouth agape in deep asleep. She had openly masturbated without embarrassment after the three of them settled in for the night. She had begun touching herself like that on the ship, but Belle had never once admonished her. In a way that was strange. Though Belle was determined that they should always be "proper," Marie realized she hadn't heard that word in some time. Marie had once awakened to find proper Belle pleasing herself improperly in the cabin on the ship. The eldest, believing her two companions to be asleep, carried on under agitated bedclothes with her groans and grunts for some time, longer than Marie had ever done herself. But both sisters were awake. Jill had looked at Marie, just inches away, with wide eyes and a knowing grin. Marie had always made certain that her sisters were indeed asleep before she touched herself. At such times it helped to think of Wu Fong on top of her, filling her up and delivering more pleasure than she could ever obtain by herself. Now she lay upon her pallet, dreaming of her lost lover and rubbing herself gently, but withholding her release. Tonight she wanted more. She wanted the real thing once again. She looked over at Belle who was curled on her side with a thumb in her mouth snoring slightly, deeply asleep. Tonight Marie would proceed without fear of interruption. All she need do tonight was convince the man, and she thought now, after the experience on the beach this morning, she knew how to do it. She got up quietly, careful not to make the dried leaves in her pallet rustle louder than the breeze in the roof, and tip-toed out of the hut. In the full light of the moon she felt empowered, exuberant, free of all inhibition. The man would take her despite his guilt about Belle, because he was, after all, just a man who could not prevent his manhood from swelling to fill a woman. She strolled naked down the path to the beach. * * * Jake awoke unwillingly to a shove against his shoulder. He blinked open his eyes and was startled to see a naked girl looming over him. He recognized her. "Marie?" "Yes," she replied, standing with her legs apart and hands on her hips, looking down at him. "What happened to your hammock?" "The vine rotted and dumped me on my ass," he declaimed wryly. He raised up on an elbow and looked through her legs to the moonlit beach and the phosphorescent whitecaps beyond. "What's the matter? Is something wrong?" "I couldn't sleep." "You couldn't sleep? In this paradise?" Instead of answering she knelt beside him, throwing her shadow across his midsection. Her hand caught his organ gently, eliciting a gasp of shock. "It's wet," she announced. "You shouldn't be here," he protested, pushing away her hand and covering himself. "I'm here now, Jake, and it seems that I'll be here for years to come." "Good god!" "Maybe He's good for both of us. I know how a man gets wet in his bed, Jake. You need , too." "But you're just a child," he replied with a plea in his voice. In the moonlight she did not look the child. Her body was rounded and shapely. Her waist was not narrow as Belle's but the undercurve of her belly had its own appeal. Each breast was high but plump, already larger than his clenched fist. The pretty, oval face, hovering above him against the stars, was perhaps her youngest feature. Its small nose and pouting lips made her seem no more than the twelve, almost thirteen years, she had admitted possessing. But her eyes, glittering in the shadows, were not those of a child. Denied the shaft, her hand slipped under his to caress his testicles. Again he had to gasp. "Wh-what has happened to you, Marie?" "What do you mean?" "When I first saw you, you could hardly speak without blushing beet red. You were too shy to look me in the eyes. Now you grab me by the balls. I can't believe you're the same girl." "You thought I was shy?" "So did everyone else, I wager. Belle has mentioned it." He heard a smile in her voice. "They mistook shyness for excitement." "Excitement? How can you know about that?" His hand slipped up the kneeling thigh, so smooth and inviting of a lick. She opened her legs to him. His fingers thrust forward, probing gently, parting her lower lips, finding no obstruction. With a sigh she threw one leg over his belly, hitching herself up onto his chest, directly before his face. She had pubic hair but only the beginning of a real bush. Still unable to believe her nonvirgin state, he protested weakly, "I don't want to hurt you, Marie." "You won't," she responded shortly, slipping forward onto her knees astride his face. She lowered her body to the man's mouth. He could not escape, could not resist the offering. Slipping his hands under her thighs, he deployed his thumbs to part the puffy lips that almost touched his nose. He began to stroke the girl with his tongue as he had done for many women in many ports. The delicate odor of her filled his nose. His manhood hardened painfully. She had longed for this touch since Wu Fong's departure. She grasped her plump breasts and squeezed them tightly, mouth silently agape as the magic thrill suffused her body from that special place. It came on quickly, the awesome pleasure, and she squealed as her body shuddered involuntarily. The man's tongue continued so nicely after that first delirium, but the girl had something else in mind. She scooted down his body and took hold of the magnificent penis, positioned it and then squatted onto it. It felt so huge! In an instant young Marie became an addict, a slave of the man's fat cock. She lost control and did not try to regain it. He caught her shoulders and brought her down to him, where she shuddered in his arms and stuttered in Chinese, gasping again and again the name of Wu Fong. Jake, who had masturbated just an hour previously, was ready for a long, serious encounter. He thrust up into her with rapid, powerful strokes as she quivered atop him, crying out from time to time, each squeal weaker than the last until her sweaty body shuddered and fell limp. Jake was not done. He slowed his plunging to relish his encasement in the silken tight heat. His hands roamed over the soft body, gently pinching the pliant flesh. He kissed her slack lips and wondered if she were still conscious. And then he felt his own pleasure announce itself with that peculiar tingle of the glans. He had to get out of her! his rational mind insisted, but the beast in him let spew forth uncounted seeds of trouble in exchange for the brief moment of ecstasy. He hardly noticed her weight atop him as he lay panting for breath. Her head sagged beside his. He felt a wet tongue on the skin of his shoulder. She still clutched his softening manhood in her belly as if she hated to release it. His hands continued to fondle her, stroking her back and buttocks. He could feel her sharp nipples on his chest. Curiosity at her continuing collapse impelled him to ask, "Are you asleep." "No," she sighed. "Dead, I think." She added something in Chinese. "What does that mean?" "It means... that you have sent me to the highest heaven." He heard mild vexation in her voice. "But it doesn't sound half so sweet in English." "Who sent you there before?" "You know." "Your Chinese houseboy?" "Not just a houseboy. He told me I was a goddess." "He was your first, I take it." "The one whose cock made me bleed, yes, but not my first man." "No? Honey, don't you know? The ones before you bleed don't count." "Oh, that one counted! But you are the best of all, Jake." "Because I have the thickest cock?" "That, too." He chuckled. "You're a sweetheart, my Marie. But what am I going to do with you?" "The same, I hope, only more so." Again she added something in Chinese. "Which means?" "That I am your slave." "My slave, are you? Then you must tell me the truth, right?" "If you ask for it." "When were you born, Marie?" "In 1835, on the seventeenth of September." "September! Then you might already be... 13. 13! Good god, I've done it again!" "Done what, Jake?" He sighed deeply. "What the law strictly condemns. But not the French law, maybe... 13! That's awfully young for what you are. Many girls are 14 before they start bleeding. How many times have you had your monthlies?" "My what? You mean my curse?" He chuckled. "I guess that's how it seems, eh?" "The curse of Eve, as Belle says. Four times, once here." "Four months! It started before you left China, did it? I'm curious: was that after your, ah, worshipper made you bleed?" "Yes, awhile." "Hmm. I wonder if fucking can bring on the courses early. Can it hasten a female's growth?" "I don't know. 'Fucking?'" "What we just did." "Oh. !" "Ah, Marie, that's a very bad word. Don't use it around your sisters." "If you say so." After a moment's thought, he prompted, "Tell me about it." "Tell you what?" He smiled, conceiving a rare opportunity. "Everything. Everything you've done about sex." She responded deprecatingly, "Oh, I can't remember time!" "I mean in general, what you did, who you did it with. Who was the first to rub your clit? Was it Belle?" She raised her head to look at him. "Never Belle. She's not like that. It was my father." "Your father?" Jake responded incredulously, having no daughter and perplexed at the idea of lewdly touching one. "After Mother died and I was nine he sent the servants away on bath night and washed me himself. It was so nice, the touch of his soapy hands, especially between my legs. When I was ten I felt the tingle for the first time, and he was so happy. He said he was proud. After that he would often come to my bed and give me pleasure as he kissed me. I wanted to touch him, but he always refused. Belle never knew about it, but Jill did. She saw us once and climbed into the bed just as I cried out, asking if Daddy had hurt me with his head between my legs. Daddy never touched Jill or Belle, just me. I was his favorite." "Do you miss the feel of a tongue?" Jake asked, remembering her delicate odor, wanting to taste it again, even with his spunk oozing from her slit. "No, I want your fat hardness in me once more," she replied in a husky voice. "You can lick me another time, when I'm more relaxed." Jake took her again, on top, careful with his arms to suspend his weight above her. The thought of his penis replacing, indeed surpassing, her father's tongue brought him to a surprisingly quick climax. He backed away, thinking to spare her the weight of his hips, but she protested, "You didn't last long enough that time, Jake." "But you cried out!" he protested. "Only once," the young girl sniffed. "I need more." CHAPTER 7 Raided --------- The sun was well up when Belle awoke. Another empty day, she groused as she stretched her legs and curled her shoulders. Her face turned to Jill, who slept on her back with her fine lips slightly parted to reveal an upper row of even, white teeth. Belle never ceased to be impressed by the child's wondrous beauty. She reached over and placed fingers on the girl's right breast as she frequently did, gauging her sister's maturation. She felt soft flesh beneath the swollen nipple. Belle raised up on her arms and looked to her right. Marie's pallet was empty. She took no alarm; that was not unusual, especially lately. The middle sister's habits were changing along with her body. Belle got to her feet, stretched her arms again, yawned and went outside to greet the day. Almost immediately she spied Marie standing down on the beach with Higgins. They were both naked, kissing, the girl on tiptoes with her arms around the man's neck while he impudently grasped her buttocks in his two hands, pulling her pubes against his own. As a chill passed through her, Belle immediately suspected the worst. With an inarticulate cry she raced down the path, wondering bitterly how a man, even man, could prefer an immature girl, almost a child. She did not recognize the jealousy that her anger concealed. When they saw Belle racing towards them, her ragged petticoat flying, Marie scurried behind Higgins and peeped over his shoulder. The man covered his erect penis with both hands and stared at the oncoming young woman. Belle stopped five feet away, breathing heavily because of the race and also because of her emotional intensity. "Marie!" she shouted, her face contorting unattractively. "Come with me at once!" Marie did not move, although Higgins, a worried look on his face, stepped aside and urged the girl forward. But she clung to his hand and looked pleadingly into his face, her eyes growing teary. The man's imposing member, now in view, quickly lost its urgency. But Belle did not give it a glance, because she stared at the girl's labia, not yet concealed by pubic hair, obviously inflamed from use. "Go back up to the hut!" Belle screamed at her sister, although she glared into Higgin's face. "I want to live with Jake," Marie countered with wide eyes, clutching to the man desperately. "What have you done to her?" Belle raged at the top of her voice to the man who stood seemingly relaxed before her. "She's been after me for weeks," he replied almost with a smirk, "and when she came to me last night, there was no way to avoid her." "You filthy pig!" Belle screamed in outrage. "You low born cur! The girl's still innocent, however much you have used her. And you deny your part, your gross complicity?" "She's hardly innocent, Belle," he declared with an impudent grin. "I wasn't the first." "You dishonorable little man, I'll see you dead," Belle growled convincingly, her face beet red, and she raced away from them up the path. Higgins moved from one foot to the other nervously as he watched the young harpy rush up to the ledge. "Jake," Marie implored, gripping the man's hand and looking beseechingly into his face. "Let's go away." He nodded. "That's a good idea. I've been wanting to walk around the island. Would you like to go with me? Let me get my britches." Shortly they climbed the path to the ledge. He told her, "No telling what we'll meet. Go find your petticoat while I fill a water jug." She dutifully veered away to the hut while he held one of the boat's bottles under the falling water. Almost immediately he heard a commotion behind him. Marie screamed, "Don't, Belle! Jake, she's got a gun!" He turned in time to see Belle rush out of the house with the weighty Colts revolver in her hand, surely the one whose case he had last seen in the boat locker. "Where's she been" -- keeping that? he meant to say, until the crimson glare of her face turned toward him, clearly disclosing her intentions. Higgins set off running down the path among the rocks toward the southern beach. When Belle arrived at the head of it, he was a distant figure who had almost reached the sand. She lowered the pistol as the middle sister caught up to her, crying convulsively. "Come now," Belle said in a quiet voice, placing a gentle hand on Marie's shoulder, the weapon dangling at her side from the other. "Remember how I used to braid your hair?" She spoke in Chinese. "I can't, I can't," the younger girl mumbled, staring at her feet. She sniffled a few times. "It's so pointless here, Belle," she said more soberly, looking up into the elder's face, "and he's all I got." "You have Jill and me," Belle protested, deeply hurt by the girl's words. "It's just not the same. You've never felt it, not really." Nevertheless Belle knew exactly what the younger girl meant, and a bitterness crept into her mind. "I need it too much, Belle, now that I've started," Marie declared, looking straight into her sister's anguished face. "It's maybe like those drugs in China that Father told us about. I can't get enough of it." "Who was the first?" Belle asked, as if she were keeping an official record. "Wu Fong." Belle nodded, knowing the answer before having posed the question: the darling, beautiful Wu Fong who had never even kissed her own lips. "I have to go, Belle. I have to catch up with Jake." Marie turned hurriedly away. Belle watched her weave away among the rocks, becoming smaller in the distance, and felt like putting the gun to her own head. But there was little Jill to consider. She was about to turn woodenly back to the hut, where Jill stood rubbing her eyes curiously, when Higgins suddenly reappeared on the sand beyond the path, racing forward, yelling and waving his arms. Belle could not make out his obviously desperate calls. Marie lifted on her toes to race toward her man, but he made shoving motions with his arms to ward her back. A crowd of men appeared behind Higgins, mostly naked bronze-hued savages with spears in their hands, running more expertly than Higgins across the sand, gaining on him. Their hoarse cries, like attacking wolves, struck terror into Belle's heart, but she moved forward automatically to protect her sister. She saw Jake fall to the ground when he was struck by a thrown spear. The savages raced past his body toward Marie who had stopped instantly and stood as if glued to the sand, screaming hysterically. They were soon upon her, and Belle saw a large man throw her over his shoulder and carry her away, wriggling violently and striking at his head. The others raced on toward her. There were eight or ten of them, closely bunched. Belle raised her right arm out straight and leveled the Colts. She closed her eyes and fired. The recoil of the weapon threw her arm into the air, much more fiercely than Father's weapon had done, and she fell backwards onto the rocks. Though she didn't notice, one of her attackers collapsed similarly and sat up slowly in a daze. The others came on, darting up the path like hounds. Belle squirmed around on the rock, cocked and fired again, this time to no effect except that the attackers stopped short immediately. They were close enough for the surprise on their faces to be recognizable. Suddenly she understood: they were unfamiliar with a gun that could shoot more than once without reloading. They babbled furiously in a gibberish. Grimly she cocked the hammer and braced the weapon in both hands while sighting carefully on the nearest. The pistol roared a third time and the man went down as if kicked by a mule. Instantly they broke into a run -- in the opposite direction, dragging their wounded comrades with them, glancing fearfully over their shoulders at the young woman lying upon the rock path with her magic gun still threatening them. When the raiders reached the sand and disappeared beyond the intervening boulders, Belle dropped her face to the ground and began to cry convulsively. Little Jill, who had seen it all from her perch at the head of the path, came running up and fell upon her oldest sister. "Where's Marie?" she screamed. "What's happened to Jake?" "The devil take Higgins!" Belle sobbed, thinking only of her sister, surely lost to a fate worse than a sailor's cock. * * * "There were maybe a dozen of them. I saw two outriggers drawn up onto the beach," Higgins babbled as Belle struggled to deal with the bleeding injury to his skull. "It's not my fault," Higgins insisted over and over again, knowing that his previous guilt had been superseded by this catastrophe. He assumed that the lovely girl would be eaten before dusk. He had heard about the natives of this island group. They sacrificed only pig flesh to their gods. They ate people because they liked the taste. He grinned at her as she tied the shreds of a petticoat around his scalp. "At least they proved once again how hard my head is!" Belle was not distracted by his humor. She was insistent and apparently oblivious to the reality of the situation. "You have to go after them. You must bring her back." "They've gone off to another island by now," Higgins pleaded, knowing the truth of it. "At least go look for smoke on the other island," Belle insisted, restraining the hysteria that was just below the surface. "He's hurt, Belle," Jill observed, stating the obvious fact. "You can have the gun," Belle argued, not hearing her baby sister. "You can have me, if that's what it takes. But you have to try." Jake would very much like to have the lovely Belle, but he was in considerable pain, and besides Marie had drained him the previous night beyond his capacity. That pudgy girl was insatiable. "I'll take the gun," Higgins announced, struggling to his feet, suppressing a groan. "As for your other inducement, I'll claim that upon my return." Belle blushed deeply, for an instant thinking only of herself. "Do it, man," she said with great emotion, thrusting the pistol box into Jake's hand. From the remains of the petticoat he made a back pack that he loaded with the water jug and the reloads from the pistol box. The pistol itself went into his belt beside the knife. "Wish me luck," he said, staring into Belle's eyes. "Oh, I do, I do," she declared fervently. "Then kiss me." Her face reddened. She took a breath but puckered her lips and leaned forward. He chuckled and pulled her against him, kissing her for the first time. She resisted his tongue and he did not force her. He stepped away and bowed slightly. "I'm going to the hilltop. They won't come far from their boats, but they won't conceal them, either. I can see the whole beach from there. If they're still within reach, I'll catch them." He paused. "I'll search as hard as I can, Belle, as if I was searching for you." He turned and went down the path. It was a vain effort, he knew. But on his return he could claim Belle. He had her promise, even though she had compressed her lips. * * * Jake pushed up through the jungle on a quest that was fruitless, but certainly not thankless. He diverted from the route that the four of them had previously taken and came upon a sulfurous, warm pool where he sat for some moments to rest. He became aware of the chittering and chattering in the trees above him, which he had previously dismissed as background noise. He resented it suddenly and wished fervently to be back on the quieter ocean. It was midday when Jake reached the top of the volcanic ridge and looked down on the shore below. He was amazed to see immediately the two outriggers pulled up on the beach to the southwest, so small in the distance. He stood straighter. His chest expanded. He felt himself again an officer, a first mate, second-in- command of the ship. His revolver was fully loaded and he had additional bullets in his back pack. He faced savages armed only with hand-thrown weapons. With that comfort he plunged down the jungle slope as fast as he could. It took him nearly an hour to plunge the mile to the southwest beach. When the first flashes of open sky appeared ahead, he slowed his headlong pace and raised the pistol to hand. He came first upon a peculiar clearing, an inward extension of the beach, littered with burnt sticks and... white bones. Someone had built fires here but not recently. Where were the natives from the boats? Crouching, he lurched onto the strand and finally saw the two outriggers, now well beyond the surf, rattan sails set, apparently making a course around the western side of the basalt island looming to the southwest. He stood erect, arms slack beside him. Belle's instinct had been correct, but he was not in time. Jake then looked fearfully about, especially near the old fire pit. Some of the sand was stained reddish- brown, one spot of it as long as a man, but he found no fresh human remains and no sign of earth turned for a grave. His foot kicked a desiccated skull from the sand, an object truly old. It grinned at him as he raised it up. Was heaven so joyous? he wondered, as he tucked it into the back pack and turned away for his easier return journey along the southern beach. * * * Marie had ceased her hysterical screaming and was left with just fearful blubbering when the large man sat down on the sand and pulled her onto his lap facing away from him. He was breathing hard from his loaded run, but not hard enough to interfere with the commands he shouted to the others who strove to lift the strange boats beyond the surf. Marie had never before seen outriggers, but it was obvious what they were. They were gracefully slim, even though crudely made. One man knelt beside her and her large captor. He was bent over, holding his belly in both arms. Marie craned her neck curiously and saw blood running steadily from a huge wound in his middle back. She wondered how that had happened to him. Was that what a pistol did to you? As she watched, his arms relaxed and he pitched forward onto his face. A moment later the remnants of a breaking wave wet her feet and washed over the fallen man's head. The elevated buttocks fell over, leaving him on his side. She raised her eyes to the others. One with a bloody shoulder helped lift the boats with his good arm. It seemed to her that she had heard three gunshots, but she saw only the two wounded. Many of these men were just boys, she soon realized, a couple of them hardly older than she. The bronze man held her tightly, one arm around her waist and the other roaming her body, his fingers pinching soft flesh here and there, grunting appreciatively. He exclaimed aloud, when he pushed two fingers into her vagina and found no barrier. The man shouted something at the boys as they struggled to straighten a boat thrust sideways by a contrary wave. His tone was different, lighter, and his sally turned grinning faces momentarily toward them. This one was obviously the leader, Marie noted. The man, whose skin was smoother than Jake's, nuzzled his face against Marie's hair and cheek. His beard was softer than Jake's, almost silky, but coal black where Jake's was brown and white. He mumbled incomprehensible words, then bit her shoulder painfully, leaving toothmarks. He grabbed a handful of her tummy and grinned evilly into her face. Marie was very frightened, but she had liked the feel of his fingers in her. She reached under his loin cloth and grasped a flaccid penis. That produced a look of surprise, followed by a big grin and an exclamation. He shouted again to his crew. They responded with wild gibberish. Some abandoned their boats to wade through the surf toward Marie and her captor. The man growled angrily at that and they returned to the craft sheepishly, pushing them into deeper water, although they frequently looked back at the girl. He did not seek to communicate with the girl in words as they sat on the sand, although Marie repeatedly pointed to her chest and spoke her name. He finally responded, taking his two hands off the girl's left thigh, which he had been gauging like a gourmand, and pointed at his own chest. "Tu'a-po!" he declared. She touched his chest and repeated, "Tu'a-po," then her own: "Marie." "Marie," he conceded with a sneer. He added a few words, thrust out a long tongue and licked his lips hungrily. Marie feared the worst. She was not entirely ignorant. She had heard about cannibals. With a definite purpose she invaded the man's cloth again and pulled on his cock. She offered her face for a kiss as she pumped him to erection. Perhaps they would not eat her if she proved herself to be eager for sex. Were she not so frightened, she might have dwelt upon that notion with enthusiasm. Tu'a-po jumped to his feet pulling Marie up with him. Again she went onto his shoulder. He waded forward toward the boats and loaded her into one over the bow, levering himself in behind her with impressively bulging muscles. He did not take an oar, leaving the work to the boys. He sat in the bow facing Marie, his legs over hers. He pushed aside his cloth to reveal a semi-erect penis that was thinner than Jake's but larger than Wu Fong's. His hand came up to the back of Marie's head. She knew immediately what the grinning savage wanted. She had done this many times before for Wu Fong, even once briefly for Jake. This time she assumed that she would get a mouthful of male seed. She leaned down, placed her hand on the shaft, eased back the dark foreskin and took the purple glans into her mouth. She sucked gently, using the tongue as her Chinese lover had taught, with an eagerness that suggested enjoyment, which, in fact, she felt. Marie was a girl of simple tastes. She loved this part of a man. The four boys in the boat, who had been peeping at the couple between thrusts of their paddles, laughed and called out to each other and to their comrades in the other craft. The ocean air filled with merriment as Marie noisily sucked the cock. She was forewarned of the man's impending discharge, when he grasped her head and held it steady. Then she felt thick fluid squirting into her mouth, not a copious amount, but certainly enough for the man, who roared to the heavens. Marie's first inclination was to spit the stuff into the water, but on quick reflection she thought that her captor might consider that disrespectful. So she swallowed it and displayed her empty mouth to the panting man. After his agreeable orgasm, something which he had perhaps not anticipated when he arose that morning, Tu'a-po seemed more relaxed and friendly. He spoke to Marie with a smile, and the girl felt a bit safer. She would do them all, she knew, and more than once. She only hoped that they would not prefer her mouth. Eight of them! She shivered in anticipation, feeling cool moisture on her thighs. Her previous two lovers had never been able to give her all that she could want. The outriggers pulled back onto the beach. Because land had always been to her right, Marie assumed that they were coming ashore on the same island. Tu'a-po was very gracious as he help her out of the boat. The man barked orders and the boys pulled the craft up above the strand. She saw the wounded lad doing his share of the work. The unconscious one was transported into a trashy area well away from the water and dumped unceremoniously onto his back. The man called out and one of the youngest of them came over grinning sheepishly. He was naked. Marie found him to be absolutely beautiful. The only hair on his body were a few wisps above his modest penis, which was fully erect. He was perhaps a few months younger than she. Tu'a-po placed his arm affectionately around the lad's shoulders. Perhaps this was his son, she thought. The man reached down and wriggled the half grown penis. He looked at her and shook his head negatively, indicating perhaps that the boy was still a virgin. He then pushed the suddenly bashful lad at her gently, turned and went up the beach shouting orders. Marie gazed at the lovely creature who stood passively in front of her with a bowed head. He was not quite as tall as she. What the father wanted was obvious. She understood that she would certainly please the man by initiating his son. She smiled. How agreeably novel to play the teacher herself for a change! "Marie," she intoned, pointing to the space between her half developed breasts. "Tu'a-kia," the boy responded shyly, similarly pointing. Marie held him lightly in her arms and kissed his smooth cheek. Gradually they lowered themselves to the sand and embraced. Would the boy want her immediately, she wondered, or did she have time to explore his lovely body? He remained passive, so she kissed his face, his lips, relishing the feel of it, of being in charge, with a boy her own age. She kissed quickly down his sleek body and then took his penis almost fully into her mouth. It fit so much more comfortably than Wu Fong's larger member. It was salty from the ocean spray. Tu'a-kia wriggled in excitement and uttered some words in a soprano voice. Marie rose to her knees and began to tickle her young lover, and he responded in kind, giggling. They played like children for a short while, tickling and wrestling, until Marie, on top of him, sat down on the boy's cock. She could feel it inside of her, but it was not impressive. Not so for the boy, however, whose eyes opened wide in surprise. She delighted at the open- mouthed expressions on the lad's pretty face, registering the approach and then the arrival of his orgasm. * * * They came to her in an orderly fashion, one after the other. Tu'a-po's barking voice kept even the most eager under control. The first was a swaggering lad little older than she who finished in no more than ten strokes. The next two, about Belle's age, lasted longer but only whetted Marie's appetite. The fourth one, a young man, brought her off and set her on a high which allowed her to experience orgasm with almost every one who followed. Tu'a-po caused her to scream aloud. Some of them came back for seconds, and Tu'a-kia visited her a third time. Then, it seemed, Tu'a-po called a halt to the festivities. His pretty son pulled Marie to her feet and led her to the water's edge, semen streaming down her inner thighs. He washed her with great gentleness, and they then frolicked in the surf like the children they were. She looked back to the sand once again. All the others were gathered tightly around something in the trashy place. She could not see what they were doing. The boy later brought her something to eat. "Noni- noni," he declared, taking a bite of pulpy fruit. At his urging she took a bite of her own. Heavenly! The sweet juices dripped onto her nipples. Tu'a-kia sucked it off, which she found most agreeable. He showed her the tree where the potato-sized fruit grew. She ate until she was gorged. Something to tell Jake. Would she ever see him again? She watched her group of lovers relaunch the boats. At the last the still one was brought aboard from his rest in the trashy place. Marie climbed aboard to lean on Tu'a-po's shoulder. It had taken ten of them, some more than once, but she was sated for the first time in her life. And she was no longer fearful. She kissed her abductor's neck with genuine affection and dared to feel optimism about the future. * * * They put ashore again shortly before dark. Many went off with Tu'a-po into the jungle. Three or four stayed with her above the strand. The state of their cocks and their hands on her told her what to expect. She felt a bit sore and actually thought of refusing. But the first few strokes of a penis soon deadened all pain. Curiously the boys seemed to be less aggressive, as if they felt soreness, too. The first one took her in the common manner but the second knelt in the sand and pulled her buttocks up into his lap, her legs passing to either side of him. This made her work harder for her own pleasure, but a little experimenting revealed that steepening his angle caused the knob to compress her clitoris from the inside, which promised the desired result. Settling in to work for that result, she was surprised when another one squatted over her chest, presenting his erect organ to her face. Two at once? Well... What could it hurt? He hitched forward. It bumped her lips. She admitted it. Some quality of the combination titillated her. Her juices flowed and the penis in the other was suddenly much more pleasant. Apparently the afternoon's restraint and paddling down the shoreline had rejuvenated them. She shortly obtained her third mouthful of semen in that eventful day, plus another uncounted vagina full, the sum of which had begun with several of Jake's the night before. Two more eager lovers took the places of the first pair and on it went. Her excitement peaked. She cried out. Her hands, clutching the hips of the one on her chest, opened and her arms spread apart and fell to the sand on either side of her. She reached the state of blankness that she had with Jake, her whole being saturated with unspeakable pleasure. When she came to her senses, Tu'a-kia was helping her to her feet. She noticed immediately that he, at least, had lost his erection. He led her into the surf and helped her wash the sticky fluid off her legs, thighs, belly, chest and face. His fingers in her vagina stung. Or perhaps it was the salt water. He indicated that she should lay down among the puddles of the strand, where he scooped up wet sand and rubbed it briskly in her short-cut hair. She raised up and regarded him in wonder. "What are you doing?" He understood her meaning. Reaching into the hair just above her forehead, he withdrew a finger trailing a white stringer. "Oh," she acknowledged, lying down again with her head in the puddle. How much seed can you get from ten men, she wondered, and how many times? They brought her meat, hot from the spit. She recognized the taste of liver. She had never liked it before but now suddenly it was delicious. She thanked them profusely while she chewed, red juices dripping on her nipples. Again Tu'a-kia sucked them clean to the approving comments of his companions. The watchers, especially Tu'a-po, seemed appreciative of her appetite for reasons of their own. She decided that they meant to keep her alive and contented. Apparently she was the only one given liver. Another thing to tell Jake: the southern island had pigs. * * * They left her to sleep that night, cuddled against Tu'a-kia, and the lot of them remained on this beach long after sunrise, holding to the shade during midday but always keeping a watch up and down the coastline. She was very sore in her groin, but thankfully the men hardly molested her. Only Tu'a-po, who made her suck him, while his son and two others of the youngest took her vaginally. If they failed to arouse her, at least their small organs caused her little distress. When the three boys had long finished, he still sat beside her, her neck twisted awkwardly to suck on his cock. He seemed unconcerned with achieving his own orgasm. After a long while her neck grew stiff. He did not object when she turned over on her belly, her arms over his legs, and took him back into her mouth. She found that he didn't even require suction, only that her lips enclose the knob. She fell asleep in that position and was awakened, some significant time later by the evidence of the shadows, by a blow to the head. She raised up, startled, to find the man pulled back, glaring at her, his hand raised to strike again. "What is it? What's the matter?" He shook his half-erect member at her, said something unintelligle and gnashed his teeth together. She hung her head, murmuring, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite. I just fell asleep." She pantomimed falling asleep. He grunted. She realized it was a chuckle. He called out something to the others lying around them and was answered by laughter. He stood up, scowled at Marie and took himself in hand. Suddenly an endless gush of smelly, yellow fluid struck her face, her hair, her back. She rolled aside with an exclamation of disgust and bounced to her own feet. A storm of laughter erupted all around her. Tu'a-po laughed so hard that his water fell on himself. She tasted her lips as she raced to the surf, where she was careful to gargle with sea water as she rinsed her body. The two liquids struck her as oddly similar. Piss in the face at least didn't hurt, whereas she had actually bitten the master's cock! She wished she could remember doing it. After all, she still had his tooth marks on her shoulder. * * * Her soreness was almost gone the next morning, apparently that of her companions as well. After a breakfast of coconut and cold ribs, they took her again. They tried variations on their theme of two. Two lay on their backs in the sand, testicles together, while Marie, kneeling over them, vainly tried to suckle both at once -- while a third took her from behind. The two on their backs were unfulfilled, though much ribald comment occurred among the watchers. They tired of the game quicker this morning, though not before a sequence of them gave Marie her strongest climax yet, complete with flashes in her vision, bells in her ears and near somnolence. Then they let her be. Again Tu'a-kia had to scrape her hair clean. He seemed to enjoy it. Afterwards she lay before him in the shade with his little penis in her mouth. Unlike his father, he soon spurted richly and powerfully. Surprised at herself for letting it surprise her, she strangled on the semen and coughed up a glob, which occasioned wild laughter all around and the elevation of the blushing lad to his father's shoulders. Late in the afternoon the whole scene repeated, though at a slower pace and without strangulation. Marie weathered that storm with less vaginal sensitivity and thought perhaps she was "toughening up" as Sheng-jou had advised her could happen. They began the third day on that island with another thorough penetration of Marie. She was coming to expect it, to anticipate it, and to enjoy it immensely. For the first time in her life she was the center of absolutely attention. That in fact she was being raped repeatedly, treated far worse than Jake with Belle, never occurred to her. But when the sun was half-way up the sky, Tu'a-po shouted orders and the pleasant lethargy of the last days was ended. The two boats were swiftly back in the water and she was sitting in Tu'a- po's lap on the bow thwart of the lead outrigger. She scanned around carefully. Only the dead man -- she was now certain that he had died -- was missing. They must have buried him on the island. She couldn't ask. Beyond the surf Tu'a-po issued further orders. The paddling ceased and a rattling sail was erected on each boat's single mast. The pitching motion smoothed as the wind filled them and both boats surged ahead. The beach lay behind them. Straining her eyes around Tu'a-po's wide form, she could see nothing ahead but restless water. CHAPTER 8 Saved --------- Naval Lt. Pierre LeContreau, commanding the French sloop of war , adjusted the focusing ring on his telescope, curious that the natives should try to outrun him on a day with such a fine, steady breeze. The two outriggers, paddles flashing furiously despite well-filled rattan sails, barely overflowed the instrument's field of view. They were pulling crosswind at their best rate, drawing away now but maintainably so for only a few minutes. This maneuver was surprising, if flight was indeed their objective. He would have thought that the Polynesian sailors, their craft fore-and-aft rigged as the sloop, would understand that while sailing due across the wind was the fastest tack for them, it was also best for his far taller sails that caught the stronger wind. Lowering the telescope he gave the helmsman his new course and ordered the sailing master to adjust the lines. The sloop heeled sharply as it turned and its master smiled, pleased as ever by its nimble behavior. The new bearing gave him a better view of the outriggers' interiors. "No cargo but people," he mused aloud. He stiffened. "But perhaps is the contraband." Bou-bou, hanging from a nearby stay very like a monkey, asked impudently, "What do you see, my father?" "I'll treat you as a father!" the lieutenant declared. The helmsman barked a laugh. "As a father!" The lieutenant smiled. "Your father never plugged your ass, Carle?" "Not my father, sir." "Poor, lonely fellow! As to what I see, Bou-bou my young, I see a boy in the starboard craft with his head resting in the lap of the big one who sits in the bow. The boy, though tanned as well as you, is lighter skinned than all the others, and his hair is bleached almost light as yours. That is a white boy!" "A white boy, is it? How is he dressed?" "Not even so much as your ragged britches, my young. As the others: only his tanned skin." That news failed to please Bou-bou. He scowled at the officer, his beardless face contorted, and asked, "Who needs another boy?" "Oh, I can think of uses for another boy," the lieutenant smirked, "especially if the captain sends us to Papeete next week." The helmsman grinned. "Especially if that one is doing to the big one what Bou-bou so enjoys." "I can't quite make out what he does -- Ah! He has raised his head to look at us. Brown eyes in a pretty face, Bou-bou, and about your age, I would guess. My god, what a cock on that big one! I would say our little one has been doing exactly that." The officer's mouth twisted. "But, yes, a white boy! That big cock has enjoyed its last lick." He declared, "This has endured long enough." He leaned over the poop rail and shouted, "Gunner! Round shot in the swivel!" Shortly a cry rang down the deck, "Swivel ready, master!" The officer shouted back, "Put one in the water ahead of him. Fire when ready." The cannon in the bow roared with a flash, belching a cloud of gray smoke that the crosswind blew cleanly away. Two seconds later a plume of water splashed ahead of the racing outriggers. After an exchange of gestures their occupants deciphered the message. The ragged sails descended and paddles on both craft sank into users' laps. "Prepare to come about to starboard!" shouted the lieutenant. Acknowledgments returned from the helmsman and the sailing master. "Break out the accommodation ladder," he added. When the much larger craft was nearly upon the outriggers, now motionless except for the tossing swell, he added the order of execution. Shortly the sloop lay with her stern to the wind, sheets trailing before it, temporarily dead in the water. "Marines to the rail!" shouted the lieutenant. His squad of marines, deliberately visible in their gaudy blue uniforms, took station along the erstwhile weather rail, muskets at port arms but only too ready to lower upon the outriggers. The lieutenant leaned over the rail and pointed down at the white boy, huddled wide-eyed against the big native, who held him securely with a muscular arm around the chest. He shouted one of the few native phrases known to him, the one that meant "Come here!" and made sweeping gestures toward the Ellette's main deck with the pointing hand. "Here, here!" he added, reinforcing his motions. The natives had necessarily learned a bit of French in the six years since France had invested these islands. The big one's face twisted. Obviously the prospect was less than favorable to him. The lieutenant barked to his own crew, "Lower the ladder." Deckhands sent it over the side with a rattle. One of the natives dipped his paddle, turning the outrigger and pushing its bow against the side of the larger vessel. The big one released his captive, pointed towards the dangling ladder and made climbing motions with his hands. "Curious," observed the lieutenant. "They don't speak each other's language." To the watchers' disgust the white boy threw his arms around the big man's neck and kissed his mouth. Apparently he wanted to be rescued no more than the big one wanted to lose him. Meanwhile the bow of the canoe was scraping up and down on the Ellette's side. His eye locked with the lieutenant's, the big one looked over the boy's head and spread his hands apart, clearly signaling, "What can I do? He doesn't want to go." Lt. LeContreau drew his sword. He had often seen how the length and glitter of the well-polished blade affected native attitudes. The big one's eyes widened satisfactorily. He said quietly to the nearest marine, "Sergeant, take a bead on the forehead of that big one but hold your fire." With the sergeant's musket following the big one's face as it rose and fell with the swell, the man sighed visibly. He took the lad by the armpits, forcibly removed the clinging arms from his neck, lifted the smaller body against the ladder and when it cleaved on automatically, slapped its bare bottom stingingly. Up the ladder came the boy. Watching from his position beside the rail, the lieutenant noted how the body exerting itself on the accommodation ladder was still unmarked by muscle lines, how girlishly wide and round were the buttocks, and smiled, glancing at Bou-bou, now leaning over the rail himself. The youth was scowling fiercely. Obviously he had noticed the same qualities. The two nearest marines caught the lad's arms when he reached the rail, helped him to stand on the deck and turned him to face the commander, who noticed their gaping mouths and wide eyes before he understood the reason. The lieutenant's mouth also fell open. This was hardly a lad! Conical breasts larger than oranges thrust toward him above a split female groin mature enough, despite thin pubes, to exhibit from this angle the slightly protruding labia that are the mark of womanhood. "Name of God!" he cried, aghast. But as a commander must be, he was quick with his decision. He snapped to Bou-bou, "Take her into my cabin and wrap her in my bed sheet." Bou-bou recognized the baleful look and jumped to obey. The officer turned back to the outriggers and raised his sword. He found that the natives had anticipated his reaction. Both boats were already twice their length away from the sloop, occupants paddling like madmen. To the sergeant still holding his bead, the lieutenant shouted, "Kill the big bastard! Now!" The marine fired his weapon, but the target was already removed beyond reliable musket accuracy. Water splashed behind the man, who immediately ducked into the bottom of his craft. The paddlers all sank lower on their knees but churned the water to froth beside the boats, which shot away as if borrowing from the strength of the sergeant's gunpowder. "Sir, should you order a volley?" asked the sergeant. The lieutenant sighed. "I should, but to wound several might spark another uprising. Perhaps the right response should be to unlimber the main battery and blast them to splinters. But then I'd have to write reports for both the captain and the admiral. No, this is their lucky day. Let them go for now, but when I next see that big one, he had best again be running away." He raised his voice in a shout. "Marines, secure from quarters!" To the sailing master he ordered a course for Timuata, waited to see the ship appropriately trimmed, then repaired with anticipation to his cabin. * * * When Bou-bou had conducted the strange girl into the lieutenant's cabin and closed the door, he stripped the top sheet from the officer's bunk, which he himself had put there that same morning, and held it up to the girl. She adopted a sneer, however, and struck it out of his hands, while protesting in some foreign gibberish. "What's the matter with you?" demanded Bou-bou. "Didn't you hear the master's order?" She crossed her arms over her plump belly and stared down her nose at him. Bou-bou, though the cabin boy on a French warship and therefore expecting to accommodate those above him literally and figuratively -- potentially everyone in the crew -- was in fact as lustily enamored of female flesh as any other male, a fact already proven among the young girls of Timuata and proven now as he stared at this one's prominent breasts. His lips parted and he needed to lick them. He also felt an increasing tightness in his britches. Her eyes dropped to that region and rose again. A grin stretched her lips and she spoke anew in her meaningless rattle. Bou-bou shook his head. "I have my orders," he declared resolutely. He took up the muslin sheet and pressed it upon her with a grip sufficient to withstand the renewed resistance. But she simply transferred the battle to another front: his. Her hand popped loose the single button that restrained his waistband and forced his britches down to his knees. He succeeded in sweeping the sheet around her shoulders by hugging her within it, but his victory applied only above the waist. Below it her hand caught his half-erect manhood in an ominously tight grip. He froze, eyes and mouth wide open. Her other hand promptly slipped past the sheet and clutched his testicles. Retreat seemed to be his only option. He backed away, letting the sheet fall to the side. She followed, demonstrating a firm grasp of the issue. His legs struck the bunk and down he sat. Again she followed, dropping to her knees, plunging into his thighs and sucking fully into her mouth the small morsel of his pride. Clister Marie Meron had learned very well how to pacify a choleric male. "I can't believe this," he said without conviction as her head began to bob. But his penis believed it. This was the first female mouth to touch him there. Somehow, perhaps due to this one's lack of authority over him, it was instantly stimulating. The night before no one had returned the several favors he had distributed, leaving him even readier than the usual adolescent hair trigger. Though not quite at full erection, he spurted the first dribble. At that moment Naval Lt. Pierre LeContreau threw open the cabin door, drenching the scene on the bed in afternoon sunlight. The girl's head pivoted in startlement toward the interruption. Bou- bou's second and most generous squirt laced her eyebrows, eyelashes and cheek, while its producer groaned in frustration at the loss of contact. "My God!" exclaimed the officer, hurriedly pulling the door shut behind him. The girl released Bou-bou completely, leaving him squirming and dribbling on the bunk. The lieutenant leaned forward with fist raised against the lad. "You snake! You little waterfront bastard! How dare you force yourself--" "I didn't!" the lad cried, scurrying to the far end of the bunk. "I swear I didn't! She wouldn't have the sheet. See it? I tried to put it on her but she pushed me down." The officer paused, recalling the big one's very erect penis, upon which the girl must have been sucking or at least licking before the Ellette closed with the outriggers. Had the natives perhaps this young woman to greet men so? He'd heard of similar cases among black slaves in Haiti. If it were so, what remedy might one adopt? And how soon? He waved his hand at the lad. "I understand." To the girl he raised a corner of the sheet. When she drew back, he said, "Hold still, miss." She froze inquiringly at his tone of command and he wiped Bou- bou's leavings from her face, but not before her curling tongue had tasted the dribble from her cheek. "How are you called, my dear?" he asked kindly, but she only stared. "Don't you speak?" Bou-bou sniffed. "She speaks, all right: gibberish." "You don't understand French, is that so? Well, perhaps English?" He delved into his memory of diplomatic duty in London and essayed in that language, "You speak ze anglais -- ah, Engleesh?" * * * Was he asking if she spoke English? "Of course," Marie answered, standing straight before him, not yet remembering that her nakedness should be cause for embarrassment. "Ah, but, yes! Are you English, then? Or perhaps American?" Marie found that if she strained, she could understand him. "American? Yes, sir, am, but my little sister is both American and Chinese." "Ah, yes. Your sister... she is not with you. I am sorry." "So am I. She would love it, too, I know. Another whole ship full of men! Well, this time I know what to do." The bearded man in the resplendent uniform blinked several times, studying her. Then he gestured to the boy with the small cock and said something incomprehensible. The boy replied in a manner that Marie recognized from her sisters' behavior: calculated impudence. The man raised a hand as if he would strike the lad but smiled instead. The boy jumped off the bunk, scooped up his britches and flew out onto the deck without bothering to don them, but not failing to close the door behind him. The man took her arm and led her to stand beside the bunk. "Please sit," he told her. She complied, crossing her hands in her lap and looking up at him. "I like your side whiskers," she remarked. "I'll bet they tickle." He leaned closer to her and touched the side of his beard. "Side whiskers?" "Yes, sir." He nodded and said with a grin, "Then I comprehend 'tickle.'" He removed a gaudy coat and hung it on a rack attached to the bulkhead. Under it he wore above the waist only a wide cravat of bunched silk that he quickly unwound. Even so Marie was surprised that he could tolerate his coat in such a warm climate. "We must find out about you, miss. What do you call yourself? I mean, what is your name?" "Clister Marie Meron." He smiled at her as he unfastened the many hooks on his waistband. She noted that she would have never found them all. "Please, not all that! What does your mother call you?" "Marie. Sometimes Pumpkin. Before she went to heaven." "Ah, to heaven! I am sorry. Then I shall call you Marie, if you please." She shrugged. The motion caused her tiny nipples to bounce charmingly. He added, "You may call me Lt. LeContreau, or Pierre, when we are alone." At the close of that announcement he hopped on one foot while removing the opposite boot, then switched to hop on the other. Marie had to laugh at his antics. But she remembered a small part of her manners. "Pleased to meet you, Pierre." "At your service." He clicked bootless heels and winced. "You are sharming, Marie." Sharming? Did he mean "charming?" The thought that he did made her smile. No one had ever called her charming before. He peeled his white uniform britches down his legs, looked up at her and asked, "How did you come among the indigenes -- ah, among ze brown men?" "Indigenes? Is that what they call themselves?" "No. They say 'Hivans.' How did they take you?" "Belle ran Jake off with her gun and I had to go with Jake. The brown men killed Jake and maybe Belle, too. I didn't see. Tu'a- po threw me over his shoulder and carried me off and made me fuck. I think Belle killed one of them. She shot three times and hit at least two." "The brown man... Tu'a-po? Made you... fuck, you say?" "Oh, yes. Many, many times! Every day in the morning after breakfast and the evening after supper." The lieutenant, all under- and over-indicators of his rank now consigned to hooks and shelves, stood in full hairy nudity before the seated girl. She looked knowingly at his drooping manhood. It twitched slightly upward. "Tell me what this Tu'a-po did to you." She grinned at him. "Everything you're about to do." "Ah, Marie, I must know exactly for my report to the captain." He took one of her hands from her lap and placed it on his penis. "Did he make you do this?" She grasped him gently and withdrew the foreskin with a chuckle. "No. I was the one who thought of !" "Indeed!... How about this?" His fingers tweaked her nipple. "Oh, they did that, all right -- with their teeth, even!" "They? My English is so poor... Marie, do you mean more than one, ah, fucked you?" "I'll say! All of them." "My god!" His hand dropped to her thighs and probed into her labia. "Here, too?" "Everywhere. Well, no, not quite everywhere." "Are you not sore?" "I was at first, but I toughened up." "How long had you been among them?" She paused in retrospection. "I think three days." The man nodded. "So. But they fucked you every day, is that right? All of them? Two at the time, perhaps?" "Oh, yes." She chuckled reminiscently. "And three. Once I took two in my mouth together." "Is that right! In the mouth like this?" He leaned forward, his nearly erect member touching her chin. For answer she simply lowered her mouth and accepted him, pushing back his foreskin by skillfully tightening her lips on the partly exposed tip as it entered, then letting them expand around the entire knob. The man noticed. "Ah, a lady of experience, aren't you! You did this often for Tu'a-po?" She nodded without releasing him. With her mouth full she could not tell him how Fu Wong had held her hands and taught her that trick. "Just before I saved you, you did it for Tu'a-po, didn't you?" What did he say? She withdrew from her mouthful, eyebrows rising. " me?" The lieutenant chuckled. "Doesn't it seem that you are saved?" "I didn't want to be saved. The brown men were... very nice." "How many years do you have, Marie?" "Years? I'm not sure. Jake said I was 13. What is the date?" "29 September." "Oh! Then I 13!" "Is it true? You seem much older." She smiled. "You're nice, too, but I'm only 13. Do you think I am charming?" "But certainly! Lie back on the bed, Marie, and open the legs. I must see how they have harmed you." She did as she was told. At least she could understand this one. Almost. He talked funny but it was better than Tu'a-po's growls and gestures that sometimes meant the opposite from what she thought. She let this hairy fellow poke his fingers into her pussy, as Jake had named it, and was pleased to feel no soreness at all. His fingers strayed below and entered her again. She twitched. "That tickles!" But it was not so unpleasant. "Did the brown men fuck you here, also?" he asked. "No. Only Fu Wong." His eyebrows rose inquiringly. "Did you say, 'Only for once?'" "No. Only when I had my curse." "Your... curse?" He shook his head. "That is the puzzle we can solve another time. Now we must make the deep test." He rose to his feet, took her ankles and pulled her hips to the edge of the high bunk. She felt his manhood touch her nether lips. He brought her feet up to either side of his head and leaned further forward, resting some of the weight of his chest on her calves and of his belly on her thighs. The obvious prospect before her and the work of his fingers had somewhat prepared her. He entered her with only a little difficulty, merely requiring two or three shoves for full penetration. At least his was slimmer than Jake's, but then so was everyone's so far. This way to do it, with her legs up before him and bearing some of his weight, allowed him to push very deeply. She arched her back, rolling her hips in counterpoint to his thrusts and was rewarded by thrills both deep and shallow. She moaned as the separate thrills merged into a rising wave of pleasure. "This one truly loves it!" the man breathed in French and increased his efforts. A head appeared, inverted, in the top of the stern porthole: Bou- bou, dangling curiously from the flagstay, but neither man nor girl noticed. When their moans rose to crescendo and the man fell back dripping and panting to take a seat in the desk chair, Bou- bou discretely withdrew. That night Marie found herself in a hammock, legs raised in the identical manner against Bou-bou's chest while he straddled the cloth and pounded her internally with enthusiasm but far too briefly. The off-duty helmsman, however, and the several others in the funny tapered room at the front of the ship proved more than adequate compensation, though they nearly persuaded Marie that such "underneath" fucking was all the French knew how to do. One of the sailors spoke her language clearly. In their brief moment together he told her that 106 men occupied the ship, all of whom loved her -- or at least hoped to do so. She decided that she was saved after all. Then shortly after daybreak they sailed into the harbor at Timuata. First bathed by many hands and wrapped in the lieutenant's bed sheet, she was handed over to the care of women. Her life had changed forever. CHAPTER 9 Domestic Bliss -------------- Belle sat in the shade while Jill played in the small waves a hundred yards down the beach. It had been almost a week since Marie was carried off by cannibals, and while she could not forget her middle sister, Belle had to go on. She had to look after little Jill. Jake came up and sat beside her silently. No words were required because she knew what he wanted, that he had come to claim his reward after a decent interval of mourning. She sat with her back against the bole of a tree, her legs stretched straight before her. She shuddered slightly in apprehension when he touched the flesh of her leg just below the hem of the petticoat. She turned her face to him, and as they stared at each other, she felt his hand move slowly on her skin, under the petticoat to her knee and then up her thigh. "Please don't," she said. "Jill will see us." But she did not stir, did not interfere with his hand. "She's too far away, Belle, and she's busy with her sand castle." "Please, Higgins, not just yet." But the young woman spread her legs just enough to allow him access to the inside of her upper thighs, which were soft and warm. Belle closed her eyes, after a quick glance down the beach at Jill, and relaxed completely. She did not return the kiss which he placed on her lips, nor did she seek to touch him. Jake's head rested on the tree trunk next to the girl's, so close that his breathing was audible. She clenched her eyes tighter when she felt his fingers begin to explore her feminine parts and finally concentrate on the magic spot. "Oh, God!" she gasped and bit her lower lip as fingers invaded her vagina more and more deeply while a thumb continued to excite her clitoris. "You like this, I see," the man observed smugly as he nuzzled the her head with his face. "I have so much more for you, darling." Belle's body trembled slightly and her mouth dropped open to emit a series of shrill groans. She soon quieted and opened her eyes when the man removed his hand. She watched him lick his fingers lasciviously and leer openly. "Come, Belle. Let's scoot behind this tree and do it properly." "No, no, not now." She got to her feet, a bit wobbly on her legs, avoiding his eyes. "Later. Tonight, when Jill's asleep. I'll come to you." With that she turned and walked out onto the sand in the direction of the little sister who was playing so innocently. * * * They lay naked together in the warm, dark night. Jill nestled in her sister's arm as she rubbed herself to get that pleasure which was so delightful, which helped her to sleep. Belle embraced the little sister when she began to groan and felt a vicarious pleasure at her squeaks. "Good night, Belle," Jill whispered in a sleepy voice, kissed the lips of the older one gently and turned onto her side. Belle caressed the younger's slender thigh, rubbing her hand lightly up and down its softness until she heard a snore. After waiting a few more minutes to be certain that Jill was indeed asleep, she rose carefully and eased herself out of the small hut. She had to do it, she thought as she picked her way carefully in the darkness. She had to do it for Jill who otherwise would fall easy prey to the dirty old man at the bottom of the path. In the absence of a regular concubine, Higgins would not hesitate to take the child, as he did Marie, who had been but little older. She would sacrifice herself, her body, to his lust -- casting aside the troubling realization that it would not, in fact be a sacrifice. She was eager to reach the bottom of the path. However much she disdained the man, she yearned to experience this part of life fully for the first time. * * * "Higgins?" she called as she groped in the darkness of the overcast night. "Straight ahead, darling," he responded cheerfully, not far away. She cringed at the familiarity in his voice; he was not her equal. "There, I have you," he crowed, grasping her hand and pulling her to him, their naked bodies touching. "Ah, Belle, you feel so soft." His arms went around the barely mature young woman, almost as tall as himself. "Give me a kiss." "I didn't promise kisses, Higgins, much less affection!" She snapped her face away from the touch of his beard. "But I shall kiss your lips tonight, Belle, if not the upper ones." The once proper young woman, modesty long forfeit in the savage environment, cringed at the crudeness of his words, yet felt a tingle of anticipation. "Will this take long?" she asked sourly in a tone she would normally reserve for a tardy bootsmith. "We have all night, precious," he replied, palming a magnificent breast that was soft, pert and modest. "I will give you pleasure." "I'd rather not, if it will take all night with you. Get on with it and assuage your lust." "Perhaps we shouldn't talk so much," he murmured, smiling in his beard at the tell-tale nipple coming to a point in his palm. Licking her neck, he pulled her gently to the ground with him. "I wish it were light enough to see your body closely, lovely Belle. Your pale flesh is so beautiful. Why do you avoid the sun?" She did not respond. She felt a mouth on one breast and a caressing hand on the other. She tried to imagine another man doing this, but she could think only of the boy, Wu Fong. She relaxed and fantasized an adult Wu Fong, nibbling her thighs, pushing them apart and... "Oh, God!" she cried aloud when a tongue licked her magic spot. The fantasy in her mind disappeared as blown fog in the reality of the crude, physical ecstasy that overwhelmed her body. She did not hold back, could not, could only surrender totally to it. She did not know that she rolled her head violently and squeezed her breasts almost painfully. She did not hear the scream that rushed from her open mouth. The exquisite pleasure was simply unbearable. "Please, please," she gasped, pushing at the head between her thighs, which afforded a momentary respite. Before she could relax and collect herself a body's weight pressed atop her, and she screamed in abandon when something monstrous, something alien, pushed into her body, then out, then in again with a forceful thrust. It was unrelenting in its determination to undo her mind. With an awesome, frightening rush her body was assailed by a sensory explosion that was totally indescribable, that convulsed her in unimaginable physical bliss. As it abated she had time just to shudder before she was overwhelmed by another wave of it. She had thought she understood the meaning of ecstasy. This was the reality. Belle was aware of the man's kisses and the tickling of his beard on her face. She had never before felt so relaxed and at peace. Her body was limp. "You liked that very much," she heard a voice speaking into her face. How smug it was, she thought, and its breath was sour. Higgins! She pushed him forcefully away and struggled to rise, but succeeded only to hands and knees. She had no strength. "Stay here, pretty one," Jake purred, pulling on a rounded buttock. "We can do it again quite soon." She felt moisture leaking down her thigh. Heavenly Father, she groaned inwardly, the creature has impregnated me! She crawled away from the man on her hands and knees until she was able to rise and stagger back up the path. * * * Belle slept well into the next morning. When she finally awoke, memory of the night's inconceivable pleasure was at the front of her mind. Involuntarily she twisted her legs together and discovered a soreness that only strengthened the feeling. The fat penis had pounded something deep within her that had never been touched. In so doing it had washed her mind away in unmitigated ecstasy. Her hand went to the source, then flew away. She wanted the entire experience again, not some pale imitation. But in the light of day, when she came out onto the ledge and saw Higgins playing some incomprehensible game in the dust with Jill, she was aghast that she had given herself to that wretched old man. "Jill, come here!" she barked, glaring at the man whose smirk that morning was bold beyond precedence. "But Jake and I are about to go swimming," the little voice responded with a pout. "You'll bathe with me. Higgins has to work on the storm wall." * * * That night, when Jill was so soundly asleep that she did not stir even to the gentle sucking of Belle's lips on one of her swollen nipples, the older girl got up and left the house. She despised herself as she walked down the path naked in the moonlight. "Belle, I've been awaiting you," Jake said softly from the darkness of a shadow, startling the young woman. "I want to be on top," she declared. "I know your fear, dearest, but trust me to pull out in time." Belle did not trust him in the least, but she would submit to anything, to whatever humiliation, to experience that awesome pleasure once again. To what had Marie likened it: a Chinese opium addiction? Every night after that she left the ledge and visited Jake. He pulled his fat member out of her before spewing forth, usually. She relished the onset of her next curse. She had dodged a bullet, she thought. Jake eventually persuaded the girl to lie with him in the afternoon also, when Jill was playing on the beach. "I want to see your beauty," he argued. But Belle disliked the sight of him. She achieved another curse with a sigh of relief. * * * "Have we been here for a whole year, Jake?" the beautiful young girl asked as she absent-mindedly dug at the sand with a toe. "No, poodle, just about nine months. I think." "Nothing ever changes," she complained. "That's not so, sweetheart," Jake replied and cupped one of the girl's small breasts. "You didn't arrive on the island with these. And you're inches taller also." A wave of excitement rose in the man, pumping blood into his penis. He had never openly fondled the girl before, although he had wanted to, especially during the last months. He was gratified that she did not protest or move away from his touch. "They're getting bigger every day," he continued, placing both hands on Jill's chest. The pointy conical breasts did not fill his palms, but the feel of them aroused him. Forbidden fruit is oh, so sweet, he thought. Her legs had grown longer and her thighs had filled out invitingly, yet there was not a trace of hair around her nether lips. She stood beside him quite relaxed in her nakedness, having just come from playing in the surf. The nearness of the beautiful girl and the touch of her grew too painful to bear. He needed sexual release in the worst way. "My poodle," he said, standing erect, "I'm going up to the hut. Would you play down here for a while?" "I know what you're going to do," she replied with a knowing smile. 'Yes, I'm sure you do," he answered, placing his arms around her for a slight hug and the quick palming of a perky buttock. Her head now reached to his shoulder. "I'll come down and get you later," he said, releasing her and turning toward the path to the house. "Why can't I ever watch?" Jill called to him in protest. Jake did not answer but dashed up to the house, to Belle. * * * Belle, standing on the ledge near the entrance to the house saw him coming, and she knew the reason for his hurry. She was not at all in the mood and she would have to fake sexual arousal. She resented being the stand-in for Jill who seemed, so innocently, to drive the man increasingly into a sexual frenzy. But she would continue to do it, for Jill, although she knew that before long Jake, being the sort of person he was, would take the girl. "Belle, darling," Jake said with a wide smile on his bearded face as he approached her, "you look so fresh and lovely after your nap." Those were the exact words he had used the previous day to announce his need for sex, Belle groused to herself as she turned and entered the hut with him. No further words were needed. Belle took off her petticoat and Jake stepped out of his britches. He was an unattractive man in every way except for that "cock" of his, Belle mused not for the first time as she reclined onto the pallet. She would not really have to fake it, she understood. That member of his never failed to excite her eventually, if he lasted long enough. Jake got down on top of the young woman. "Not so fast," Belle complained. "I'm still dry." Jake rolled off her body and sought to kiss her lips as he grabbed a handful of tit. "Lick on me, Jake," she barked, turning her head aside abruptly. "You know that's the only way can get me ready. "Don't be so cruel, Belle darling," the man protested, although he quickly positioned his head between her lovely, young thighs. He parted her pubic jungle with his fingers and found his target. God! how he wanted to lick on Jill's hairless cunt, he thought as he worked his magic on the young woman. Belle liked this part very much. Without having to see or smell the man she still got wonderful pleasure. She squirmed in delight at the feel of the man's tongue. She decided that she wanted him to take her all the way with his licking. "Don't stop," she commanded. Jake knew the code and continued his efforts as Belle became increasingly agitated. She squeezed her tits and moaned from an open mouth and then uttered shrill gasps when her orgasm struck. Then he was quickly atop her, embedding his shaft in a single thrust. It felt huge inside her, and she knew for a certainty that she was to have another pleasure that afternoon, and soon. She gave herself up to it without worry. She was already pregnant, although she had not yet informed Jake. The ecstasy suddenly hit her and she cried out as he continued to pound and pound. Then another! -- relished and gone just in time, because he began to grunt forth his seed. Jill, peeking unseen through the doorway, also took pleasure from her own finger, although it was not, she thought, as great as her sister's. * * * "Jake," Jill said quietly as they walked along the beach an hour later. "Jake, I peeked." "What did you peek, poodle?" "I peeked at you and Belle a little while ago." Jake was startled by the girl's confession but not unduly troubled. "Did you learn anything?" he asked, taking her hand in his. She just giggled and squeezed his hand. Then she asked, "Why did you have your head between Belle's legs?" "Why do you think? he replied, looking slyly at her. Jill's eyes grew large and her lips formed a perfect O. "Were you kissing her there?" "Something like that," he responded, suddenly amused by the conversation. "You were licking on her!" the girl exclaimed, realizing the truth in an instant. Jake said nothing. "Belle really seemed to enjoy it." "Can you imagine what it must feel like?" Jake blurted, going recklessly into dangerous waters. Jill stopped, pulling Jake to a halt with her hand. "I can't really imagine it, Jake. Would you show me?" Jill said this in complete innocence, not realizing the effect that her words had on the man. Jake was stunned at the opportunity the beautiful girl offered. He lightly rubbed the back of his hand across one of her small tits, and she shivered in the humid afternoon. "You know it's naughty," he told her. She nodded her flaxen head vigorously, looking up into his hairy face with an open mouth. "Do you want to play naughty?" he asked softly as he gently fondled her head with both his hands. Again she nodded her head with an expectant look on her face. "You can't tell Belle, you know." "I know." Jill was extremely excited at the prospect of playing naughty with Jake, and the man was almost trembling with lust for the young girl. "Let's go into the shade," he suggested with a husky voice. They walked over to the trees and sat upon a cushion of fronds. 'I've never kissed you properly, Jill," he said softly with a palm on her cheek. "Teach me how, Jake," she responded and presented her face with her eyes closed. Jake took the girl into his arms and the two of them reclined slowly to the ground. The touch of his lips to hers was the sweetest kiss of his entire life, he thought. "Your beard tickles!" Jill giggled, pulling away slightly but then going back for more. They kissed for a long time, with increasing passion. Their tongues eventually engaged. All the while Jake's fingers fondled the girls left breast, so soft and small. He then nibbled her neck and her shoulder and finally that little nipple. He almost said that he wanted to eat her up, but stopped short because of Marie and the cannibals. Jake rose to a sitting position while Jill remained reclined, looking at him with an eager smile. He undid her leaf skirt and put it slowly aside. "Are you going to do it now, Jake? Are you going to lick on me?" Her voice was expectant. "Very soon, darling. First I want to look at you and touch your beauty." The man placed his two hand's on her nearest thigh and fondled its young smoothness lasciviously. He poked a finger gently at the girl's vaginal lips and she started with a nervous giggle. He leaned down and kissed those swollen lips with a passion and then began to lick them. "It tickles," Jill protested weakly, but she was becoming aroused. Jake could discern just pin hairs down there. Then he set to it. With trembling fingers he parted the lips and began to lick on the small clit he found. From the very first touch of his tongue Jill began to squirm and then moan. "Oh, Jake," she cried, "it's scary. Go easy!" And then a bit later with a gasp she cried, "Don't stop!" The writhing of her body and her ecstatic cries occurred three times. She fell suddenly quiet. Jake was enflamed. He pulled down his britches and climbed atop the young girl, who lay beneath him with her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. When he pushed his hard cock at the girl's bare vagina, her eyes popped open. "What are you doing, Jake?" she asked with a plaintive, frightened voice, the man heavily upon her. "I was just touching you with my cock," he replied half truthfully, pulling his body back from hers. "Can I play with it?" she asked eagerly, although still a bit woozy from her tremendous pleasure. "Of course, poodle," he replied, reclining next to her. "We'll play with it together." With his left arm he pulled the lovely girl's head comfortably onto his shoulder. Leaning slightly on his side, so that his cock head could brush lightly against her thigh, he began masturbating slowly. He did this for a minute or so, kissing the girl all the while. He stood before the Gates of Heaven, which were ajar. He would have to be patient; he was confident of having the beautiful creature before very long. She rose to a sitting position, grasped his organ and said, "Let me play with it." "Sure, darling," he replied, lying flat on his back, his head resting on his left arm bent behind it. The curious girl's small fingers did not encompass even half of his fat circumference. She brought her other hand into play, and with a gleeful cry began to pump him up and down awkwardly. He could watch her intent face. After a moment of this exercise she frowned thoughtfully, brought her nose down to the cock and sniffed. The tip of her tongue flicked the end of the swollen glans as she held back the foreskin with a small hand. "It smells kind of funny, Jake, and it has a strange taste," she said, turning her head to look over into his eyes. "That's because just a little while ago I had it inside Belle and I haven't washed it yet." "You had all of this inside her?" she asked in amazement, gauging the heft of the organ again with both hands." "That's right, sweetie, all of it." "It must have felt good for her, because she made so much noise." "Yes, poodle, she really enjoyed it and so did I." Jake stared with pent-up excitement at the beautiful, slender girl who continued to examine his cock. She was not the least bit shy about what they were doing, he saw. Taking her all the way would present no difficulty. Drawing her legs under her, she rose up and straddled his body, positioning the turgid penis at her bare slit. "What are you doing, Jill?" he demanded, grabbing her thighs with his two hands, feeling both apprehension and anticipation. "I want to put it inside, Jake," she replied with a defensive pout. "I want to feel the pleasure that Belle did." "I think that I'm too big for you, darling. You're too small," but he did not attempt to stop her. Jill knelt above the man and pressed her body against his massive cock, at first diffidently but then with one strong thrust. She bounced away, wide-eyed, and cried, "That hurt!" "You aren't ready for it yet, poodle," Jake said in disappointment. "We'll do it when you get just a little larger." "Promise?" "Yes, I promise." Jill sat on the man's knees and lower thighs and began once again to play with his cock, which aroused him to the point of pain. "Jill, baby, do you want to give me pleasure?" "Oh, yes, Jake. Tell he how." "Suck on the end of it." The girl looked suspiciously down at her friend, but nevertheless leaned forward, pulled back the foreskin and forced the engorged glans within her lips. His right hand crept to the back of her head, urging it to bob, while the left caught hers around the shaft and urged it to pump, as she sucked. He fell back and sighed, one foot inside the Pearly Gates, relishing the pleasure, enjoying also the slurpy sounds of suction. It did not take long before he felt himself about to explode. He deliberately did not warn the girl. The first dribble caused her to pause, eyes widening in surprise. The next full spurt strongly flooded her mouth. Her head jerked back, leaving his remainder to wet her face, neck and chest. Jill sat up beside the man and looked at him from a twisted, unhappy face. Her tongue push his seed through pursed lips. It drooled down her chin. "I'm sorry, poodle. I should have warned you," the sated man declared without any sincerity. "Yes, you should, and please warn me next time." She grinned. "But I wouldn't have stopped." * * * Jill returned to the house naked carrying her skirt across an arm, quite excited by her outing with Jake, by having played naughty with him. "Where have you been all afternoon?" Belle growled angrily at the girl. "I've been worried sick." "Jake and I were playing naughty down the beach a ways," Jill replied with an animated face that seemed to be so innocent. "Playing what? With that low-born Higgins? That dirty old man?" Belle's face was flushed with outrage. "How exactly were you playing?" When the girl only stared, Belle tried again with a softer voice. "What did he do to you, dearest?" She pulled the little girl against her for a hug. "We just played naughty," Jill said in a low voice, almost a whisper with her cheek pressed against her sister's shoulder. "Did he hurt you? Did he put his awful thing into you?" Belle demanded, again stern, holding the scarcely pubescent girl at arms' length to stare into her pretty face. "Oh, no. He said that I was too small. But I tried to do it and I thought I might when I pushed myself at his thing. But then he said I would have to grow bigger." "You tried to put his penis into yourself?" Belle shrieked, horrified at the extent to which Jill and Jake's friendship was getting out of control. "Yes," her sister answered with a mild blush. "I tried to sit on it when Jake lay on the ground. But it hurt awfully so I stopped." "Here, let me see if you have damaged yourself." Belle knelt before the naked girl whose vaginal lips seem irritated from obvious sexual play. There was also a small amount of dried blood in the crack. She saw more blood, when she spread the lips. The girl had indeed injured herself somewhat, but her hymen seemed to be at least partly intact. Belle climbed to her feet. "And what else were you doing with him?" she demanded in a gruff voice. "Oh, I had so much fun. I played with his thing and sucked on it, even though it was just about too fat. I had to stretch my lips until it almost hurt. Then it squirted into my mouth and all over my face. "That's absolutely disgusting!" Belle stated with a sick look on her face. Things had indeed gotten out of control, and the worst part of it was that Jill enjoyed sex play with the old man. "Yes, I suppose, perhaps. It didn't taste very good so I spit out most of it." " of it!" "I swallowed a little," the girl admitted sheepishly looking at her feet. "It surprised me." "You're making me ill!" "It was kind of fun, Belle. It made Jake holler and bounce. But that wasn't the best part." "And what was the best part?" the young woman demanded rolling her eyes upward. "Well... that was when he licked on me," Jill replied almost breathlessly. "It was not at all like when I touch myself." She looked earnestly into her sister's face as if trying to convey a difficult truth. "It was absolutely marvelous. I never felt anything like that ever. He did it three times until I thought I'd go crazy." Belle blushed deeply, because Jill's words brought forth a memory long suppressed, a recollection of the naughtiest act in her entire life. Years before, when she was little older than Jill, she had gotten naked with a playmate, Su Lee, and they had licked on each other for an entire afternoon. They did it just that one time, because, afterwards, Belle was consumed by profound guilt. She knew that the seriousness of a sin is proportional to its pleasure; therefore she had committed an absolutely monstrous sin that day. "Jill, I wish you would stay away from that awful man," Belle pleaded, although she knew that any effort to keep them apart was fruitless. "But, Belle, it felt so wonderfully good! I want to feel it again." "Little girl!" Belle replied in great anger, blurting forth her words without forethought, "If you so need to be licked upon, then I'll do it!" "Would you do that, Belle! Really? Would you lick on me?" Jill wriggled against her sister's body in jubilation. Belle was absolutely aghast at what she had just said, at least at first. But then she began to appreciate the possibilities. She was so in need of another's touch, of intimate pleasure, something more than the crude rutting she did with Jake. And it wouldn't be sinful, she assured herself, not with her own sister. "Yes," she replied laconically in a very low voice, pulling Jill's golden head to her chest. "When?" the girl asked in a muffled voice. "When, what, dearest?" "When will we do it?" Belle breathed deeply and let the air out in a long sigh. "Tonight, darling, after dark." "I'll lick on you too, Belle." "Yes," the young woman said. "I'd like that." They had become heathen savages, Belle thought. Things were totally out of control. Even she herself. She yearned for the pleasures awaiting in the coming night. In the dark of that evening the sisters became gentle lovers, and Belle was the most enthusiastic of the two. * * * "Jake," Belle confronted the man who had arrived at the door for his daily fuck. "Jake, we need to talk" The man shuffled his feet, imagining what the problem was, because he knew that Jill could never keep their secret. "You went too far yesterday, you cretin," Belle stormed. "Don't you have a heart? Don't you even care about the girl? She's not yet twelve and acts like ten, and you tried to put your ugly thing in her." "She was on top," Jake protested lamely "And when that didn't work, you stuck it into her little mouth! You're disgusting. How can you live with yourself?" Belle was in a full rage. "I let you have me only to keep you away from her." "You seem to enjoy it," the man retorted reasonably. "You bastard! Whether or not I'm so weak a person to enjoy your body has nothing to do with this. Just stay away from her. No more 'playing', no more swimming together. Just stay away. I'll keep her with me all day from now on." "She won't like that." "Perhaps not, but that's the way it's going to be. I won't have you getting her pregnant too." "Too?" "Yes, and I dread the coming of it because I'll probably bleed to death in the sand. But then, you would like that, wouldn't you? Then you could do your nastiness on little Jill." "You're not being fair, Belle. I care for the both of you." "Only one part of you cares for us," Belle shrieked, grabbing his penis and giving it a painful yank. "Ow!" Jake howled, jerking back. Belle's rage abated and she stood before the man, wordless, panting from her emotional outburst. "I'll suck on it, Jake," she then said in a low voice. "You've always wanted me to and I can do it better than Jill." Without the least indication of enthusiasm Belle sank to her knees, took hold of the man's fat cock, pumped a few times and then engulfed its head and a couple of inches more. The quiet air was filled with sucking sounds, slurps and pops. Jake's anger at the young woman withheld his climax, but it finally arrived. When the preparatory tingle announced his point of no return, he grasped the woman's head tightly and held her forcefully in place while he spewed all his fluid into her mouth. With all her strength she forced him away at last to fall backwards and choked out white foam. She barely managed to restrain her gorge. "You filthy bastard!" she growled softly, looking up at him, her face twisted in hatred. "If only I still had the gun!" * * * For the next week or so Belle did not let Jill out of her sight, and each night she exhausted the girl sexually. The younger one realized that there was great trouble between her sister and Jake, that she was at the center of it. But she did not complain. Despite this tension Jake would visit the house each afternoon. After Belle sent Jill away to play or to roam the beach, she would take off her last petticoat, now frayed and ragged, and lie on her back for the man's pleasure. To Belle the worst of it was that she enjoyed sex with the odious creature; she caught herself anticipating it from first awakening in the morning. Jake continued to provide them with food and an implied measure of protection, but they communicated with each other only in begrudged words and phrases. Jake saw Jill rarely and then usually at a distance. They endured an unrelenting tedium that lasted week after week. Belle's belly grew large after four or five months of this existence, and she was very fearful of the future. Jill's breasts became more full, clinging to her chest modest and pointy. She added another couple of inches to her height, and pubic hairs began to appear at her groin. Jake remained a part of their life, although he would sometimes disappear for days at a time. Belle was consumed with increasing despair and depression. She would have thrown herself into the sea, had it not been for her need to protect Jill from the loathsome beast who roamed the island and who appeared frequently to give her shameful pleasure. One morning on which Belle could not bring herself to rise from her pallet, Jill stuck her head through the doorway and said loudly, breathlessly, "Belle! A ship! Just outside the cove! They're lowering a boat!" The young woman swooned where she lay on the filthy, uncomfortable pallet of rags and palm fronds. CHAPTER 10 Truth ---------- The young naval officer clicked his boot heels together and saluted smartly. "Lt. Pierre LeContreau reporting as ordered, my captain." Maurice duValier, naval captain despite his present command of one company of marines, one sloop of war, and a dozen islands containing some 12,000 Marquesan natives -- plus a few French priests without whom captain, marines and warsloop would be basking in the vicinity of the Seine or at least Marseilles instead of this god-forsaken outpost of ungovernable cannibals, looked up from his desk and nodded to acknowledge the salute. His sweeping handlebar mustache drooped further in a scowl. "You are late, lieutenant." "Because of the storm, my captain. The rocks protect this harbor but make navigating it chancy when the wind is high." "That excuse is getting old, lieutenant." "Oh, have I used it before?" The captain smiled. "But I admit it is a good one. Without orders to risk it, the safety of your ship comes first. If word got to Hiva-oa that it had gone on the rocks, we should have an uprising in no time." "Yes, we should. Thank you, my captain." "I do not complain very much today. Why I have called you is not urgent -- that is, it is not urgent today though it might have been a year ago." "A year?" "Yes. You no doubt recall the white girl, ah, Clister - - what an abominable English name; you would think the Americans had learned better -- Clister Marie Meron. Good French family name, that. But she insists on being American. And Chinese." He shrugged. "Has some ill befallen her, sir?" "Not as it is normally reckoned." The captain smiled sourly. "Three months ago she gave birth, quite easily, thanks to God, to a healthy male infant who suckles the breast lustily as you or I might. As the child of a white mother born in the Marquesas, I am constrained by the admiral's sentiment to record it properly after due and diligent investigation, especially considering the mother's age and circumstances." "I see. I wrote a report on her rescue, my captain." "Yes, including a copy for the admiral." Capt. duValier scowled again. "Too bad you didn't misplace that one." His face cleared. "Or maybe not. There is more to this business than you knew. Look at this paper, the part I have circled. You read English, don't you?" "Yes, sir, a little." The lieutenant took the offered item. It was a clipping from a Lloyds shipping journal. "My god!" The date had been retained at the top of the clipping. It was about three months old. "Meron is a good French name," the captain remarked, "but not so common as all that. This girl, though discovered in an indigenous outrigger, is nevertheless a link to that ship's disappearance." "What does 'ins. cat. 8' mean?" "That's the English abbreviation of 'Insurance Category.' It means the ship and cargo were insured for at least eight million pounds sterling." "That sounds high." "So presumably would be the salvage." The captain leaned back in his seat. "Lt. LeContreau, pull up a chair. Then I want you to tell me everything that happened on your ship relative to this girl and everything she told you about herself. And, lieutenant, when I say everything, I mean !" * * * "You actually saw her sucking his cock?" "No, my captain, I did not see it in her mouth. Her back was toward me and I was spying through a telescope. But when she raised her head and turned to me, his cock was standing like a flag pole." "Then she told you that the natives had fucked her?" "Morning and night, she said. And I believed her. When I entered the cabin, my ship's boy sat on the bunk while she sucked him to climax on her knees. In fact my sudden entry -- I am not accustomed to knocking at my own cabin -- startled her so that she snapped back. He was just spending. His spunk streaked her face and chest." "Ha! I suppose you congratulated him." "I prepared to thrash him savagely -- not for the cock sucking; he was familiar with it and everyone knows... well, you understand. But for the arrogance of seducing her so swiftly. She had not been aboard the Ellette longer than five minutes. He defended himself by claiming she pushed down and gobbled his cock. I had to believe him, of course, because of witnessing her service to the big native and because she was much too calm and nonchalant to have just taken cock into mouth for the first time. I proceeded to test my theory." The captain suggested dryly, "But yes, with your own instrument?" The younger man coughed. "May I first ascertain whether my captain entertains the British sentiment against congress with young girls?" "Against? Who said the British are against it? In fact they it! It is only that they love making such things illegal so much more. Their national sport is not cricket; it is catching each other in these specious crimes. "Seriously, what is the ancient advice? 'Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed.' And that is my rule in this matter." "Ah, thank you, my captain. Then, yes, sir, I did perform such a test. She mouthed me with only the very least encouragement." "What encouragement?" "It had only to touch her lips." "You had her tied down at the time?" "No, no. I had laid hand -- actually the bedsheet -- upon her only to the extent of cleansing off the cabin boy's spunk." "Ah, so you consummated in her mouth?" "Not at all! Mouths and bums are everywhere available on a warship. Here was a unique opportunity. Which I seized." "Thank you. That is very interesting." Something about the captain's tone reminded his junior of a cat playing with a mouse. "And who else seized that unique opportunity among your crew?" "As a matter of fact, sir, personally know only that Bou -- ah, the cabin boy, took her again that night. In his hammock, I believe." "You personally know. Ha! You are too good a ship captain not to know everything that happens on your ship. Who else, lieutenant?" "I believe she spent the night in the fo'c'sle. The duty watch was quite incensed at such scandalous occurrences, or so I was told. Its members, and the marine contingent, expressed many hard feelings when she left the ship the next morning in Timuata. To prevent a mutiny I had actually to dispatch my marines for a bevy of native whores." "You what? You let those scurvy creatures on your ship?" "No, no, my captain? What do you take me for? We strung canvas around the dock, of course." "Of course. My apologies, lieutenant. You interviewed Marie in your cabin, I believe. Did your report include everything she told you of her history?" "I believe so. It was very little that made sense. For example, she said that the natives never took her anally, then amended it to claim one time only." "I refer to her life taking up with the natives. How did that happen, do you know?" "I gather she was captured in some sort of gunfight." "A gunfight." The senior nodded. "That is most serious. It means that somehow some of the natives had acquired guns." "Sir, didn't we always suppose they had some remaining from the sandalwood boom of 20 years ago?" "We never sighted any. Perhaps the guns belonged to the defenders?" "I think that is a reasonable conjecture. By the way, Marie told me the leader's name: Tu'a-po." "Yes, your report noted that. But again, what did she say about her life before Tu'a-po? Did she mention the Fleeting Star?" "No, sir. You understand, sir, at the time she knew no French and my English was learned in the diplomatic service. It's not the type young women speak." The captain grinned sardonically. "Only those of a certain kind." The lieutenant grinned back. "Well, yes. Despite her love of the cock, I don't believe Marie was that kind. I knew of some slave girls in Haiti trained at about her age to prefer oral service." He coughed and continued, "She has been among us for twelve months. Has she learned to speak our language? Excuse me. Assuming the captain has reason to know." "The captain has reason. She lives in my household." "Indeed! Then has not the captain, ah, spoken--" The older man waved a hand negligently. "Certainly we have spoken. She has demonstrated youthful adeptness with the accent. In addition to her arrival in the Marquesas, about which as you say her information is more than slightly confusing, we have discussed the identity of her son's father." The lieutenant shrugged. "How can she know? I counted nine full grown males in the two outriggers, as I reported, plus an adolescent boy. All of them fucked her many times. Of course, that was rape. No disgrace may attach to her." The ruler of the Marquesas got to his feet, the lieutenant necessarily following hastily. "Come with me, Pierre, I want to show you something." After a word with his marine guard the captain led his subordinate into the private part of station, through two rooms at that moment being tidied by female natives dressed only in skirts, to a closed door on which he knocked. A muffled voice bid them enter. It proved to be a frilly feminine bedroom. Clister Marie Meron sat in a rocking chair, her blouse open, holding a bundle to her breast: a babe, the lieutenant saw as he neared. She evinced no embarrassment that the other nipple was exposed, a drop of milk hanging from the tip. A second female, a native from her skin and features, rose from the bed and bowed toward the master. She wore only a full skirt plus a shell necklace. Though a young woman, she exhibited large and heavy breasts too full to jiggle as she moved. Milk trembled on the tips of her nipples also. Another, larger babe kicked dark feet in a basket behind her. Marie smiled for the captain, but her eyes widened in recognition of the lieutenant. "The ship master!" she declared. Her eyes twinkled. "Have you come to save my baby, too?" Her French was quite good, only slightly tainted with the English accent the lieutenant had always found initially charming in women, however much it cloyed after a few days. "I am enchanted to see you again, Miss Marie," he intoned, "but desolated that you have forgotten my name." The captain smiled at her. "This is Lt. Pierre LeContreau, Marie, master of the Ellette and my adjutant, when not rescuing beautiful maidens. Do you credit him with saving you, then?" She repeated the name, "Lt. Pierre LeContreau. But, yes, I remember. I may call him Pierre only when we are alone." She smiled roguishly at the lieutenant then replied to the captain, "He thought he was saving me from the Hivans." The captain grinned sardonically at his junior. "Marie and I have discussed this. She remains unconvinced of the benefits of French -- I should say -- civilization." Marie's eyes on the younger man were definitely twinkling. "Capt. duValier has told me it is because I am a girl of very simple tastes." The lieutenant clamped his mouth shut, bowed and clicked his heels. Her face lit as she peered down past the form in her arms. "Oh, do that again!" "Eh?" The captain chuckled. "Marie finds our military habits amusing -- some of them. You must keep in mind that she has only 13 years." At that moment her baby emitted a squawk. She deftly transferred him to the full breast, leaving the other, fully formed and supporting a large puckered nipple, exposed to view. Both parts had been significantly smaller the last time he saw them. He admitted, staring, "It is hard to keep that in mind." "For both of us. Marie, will you unwrap your son and permit me to hold him for a moment?" "Of course, sire." The swaddling cloth fell away and she raised the child to the man. He took it and turned it for the lieutenant's inspection. "What do you think of this?" The younger man found himself the subject of bright blue eyes above a milk-filled mouth. Of its masculinity no doubt might be entertained. "Remarkable! But he has taken nothing at all from his father." "Not of color or feature," agreed the captain. "And yet, consider the babe's chin. Have you ever seen such a prominent cleft on an indigene?" "No. Obviously it arrived through the mother." "If so, she has no sign of it." "Do you infer..." When the lieutenant's voice died away, the captain nodded. "Yes, I do. This is a white man's child." The junior gulped. "But, sir..." The captain smiled and asked the mother, "Marie, whom do you know with such a cute chin?" The answer was immediate. "Jake, under his beard." "Is that a name?" asked the lieutenant. "?" "Almost. Marie, who is the father of this child?" "Jacob Higgins." "And who is Jacob Higgins?" "! I think the Hivans killed him when they took me away. He was the man who showed us how to get water from the lifeboat. He was the first to love me in the islands, and his cock was fatter than all of yours." "Thank you, Marie." The captain returned the babe to her. To his junior he said, "I ask you again, what do you think?" "Quite a testimonial!" "Yes, from a girl of simple tastes. Here is one other item for you to consider." The captain went to the basket, pushed the cloths aside and raised the darker babe aloft, presenting its frontal appearance, also masculine, to the lieutenant. It stirred restlessly. "Racial differences aside, what other obvious disparity with Marie's son do you see?" The junior studied the infant then chuckled. "Using Marie's expression, I believe her son's cock must be twice as fat." "Of course a babe's equipment may not hold to manhood, but it is an indication that perhaps Marie's son did get one or two things from his father after all." He gave the dark baby, now fretful, to the native girl and continued, "Marie can tell but little more that would be helpful in verifying her story, though she is indeed one of the three Meron sisters recorded by Lloyds and a survivor of the Fleeting Star. It foundered in a storm somewhere nearby, as distances are measured in mid-Pacific. My guess is the shoal above Eloa." He turned back to the native, who had put the dark babe to her own breast. "Lt. LeContreau, this is Ko'u-e, Marie's personal maid and wet-nurse. No, don't get up, Ko'u-e." The girl, who had started to rise, bowed her head and said softly, "At your service, sir." "Enchanted," the lieutenant intoned perfunctorily. The captain said, "Ko'u-e, however, has been most helpful. Until Marie the natives had never had untrammeled sexual access to a white woman. Her, ah, youthful enthusiasm was noteworthy among them. It caused a lot of talk. Also, as you know better than anyone, quelling the uprising two years ago nearly eliminated the outrigger canoe in these islands. Most natives must still put to sea in rafts. These facts: stories of the insatiable white girl, outriggers on a mission, and the name of Tu'a-po, enabled Ko'u-e to find the information we need. Tu'a-po abducted Marie from the southern beach of the north island of the Eloa pair. His scavengers may have killed a white man, probably this 'Jake,' but a white woman shot two of them, one fatally, and drove them off with a magic gun." "A 'magic gun?'" "Apparently a repeating pistol." "So a white woman remains on the island?" Marie spoke up. "My sister, Belle." "As may be," said the captain. "Marie, thank you for seeing us unannounced." The girl smiled contentedly over her suckling babe. A drop of milk had already appeared on the free nipple. Her eyes twinkled. "The captain is welcome in my bedroom at anytime." The man coughed behind his hand and turned toward the door. "Come back to the office, Pierre. Marie has sisters. I want you to find them, if they still live." He added over his shoulder, looking at the maid, "Ko'u- e is at your disposal, if you care to interview her." As they walked through the intervening rooms, the lieutenant made bold to recall, "She said 'fatter than of yours!'" "So she said," admitted the captain with a chuckle. "I have yet to meet a young girl more enthusiastic in that comparison or more adept at the measure." "I am amazed, sir, that the priests have let her continue so!" "And rightly you should be, Pierre. A Protestant child in the home of the Catholic French commandant? Scandalous! And why do you suppose she resides here?" The lieutenant retorted dryly, "She obviously your protection, my captain. But may one ask how your lovely wife regards that?" "One may not, but I am certain that you, along with the rest of the staff, understand my wife only too well." The lieutenant choked and followed his superior into the office. * * * "These are so full and heavy, Ko'u-e." "Why not? My son arrived only two weeks before Marie's." "Where is the father?" "Shit." "They ate him? Why?" "Because he loved me, a whore of the enemy. It is good you are not Hivan." "And good for me that you are." "Oh? Are you tired of the captain's wife?" "Isn't everyone? What amazes me is that has not tired of Marie." "In color and body they could be mother and daughter. And in opinion." "Ah, but of course. My poor captain must put the best face on it that he can find." "Oh, he is accustomed to her whip!" "So true, Ko'u-e, but what a thing to say about the commander of the Marquesas! Did you forget that it was the captain himself who put you at my disposal?" "For an interview, I believe he said. Well, what are your questions, my lieutenant?" "I have been wondering about the flavor of your milk, Ko'u-e." "You should ask at the source." "My god! Does merely the thought of a mouth cause them to spray so?" "The cry of a babe can, anything at all when they are full. Oh! I love the feel of that. A man's mouth is so vigorous! And your mustache tickles divinely. Do take some more... From the other one, too." "Perhaps later. Remember, I can hardly question you with my mouth full." "Then we should try another contact. But do take off your undershirt, too." "Yes, if I would keep it dry, eh? The bed is a bit cramped, but if you raise this knee... Ah, yes, yes! Oh, my dear, you do fit so perfectly!" "Thank you, sir. How nice that a babe does not stretch one permanently! Now you may ask your questions. I hope you have a great many." "Your French is almost perfect, better I believe than any other Hivan. How do you manage that, Ko'u-e?" "Come up just a little. My French? You may thank the captain's wife. And her coach whip. She is a stern taskmistress, especially of grammar and accent." "Have you been with her long?" "I had eleven years when I came here. That was four years ago... Don't you have some more questions?" "Only the one. Shall I discharge into your womb?" "We believe that it is harmless so long as the babe sucks. Oh, my god, Pierre! This I love the most. Oh, do me! Do me! CHAPTER 11 The Long Way Home ----------------- The long boat came right into the cove, past the last breakers. Wet oars flashed in the sun as the oarsmen raised them out of the water with that uniformity for which military crews are noted. Jill, jumping up and down at the edge of the water, marveled at that, too. It was all just too wonderful! Strange faces, even if all but one were bearded, filled her heart with the joy of novelty. She could not suppress her cries of welcome. "We're so glad to see you! We're so glad!" The boat's way was sufficient for it to glide to the sand almost beside her. The leading oarsmen jumped out into the shallow water to lift the bow high and dry, the beardless one among them. Why, that one, wearing only ragged but tight britches, was not much more than a boy, not much older than Jill herself! She studied his sleekly tanned back and supple muscles with increasing interest, unaware of the spectacle she herself represented, bare above the waist, wearing only the tattered leaf skirt Belle had insisted she don before sailing down the well-worn path. Her golden hair, sun bleached almost white, danced below her shoulders. Her breasts were yet just beginning their development, but the nipples were already prominent. With the boat stopped, the beardless oarsman stood before her, returning the scrutiny. A man in a blue coat stepped between them. "Do you understand me, ?" he asked. Jill reluctantly tore her eyes from the beardless one. "If you say something, I will." "Ah, yes." He coughed. "Do I have the honor of addressing Miss Jill Meron?" He formed his words strangely, but she understood him nevertheless. "I'm Jill. How did you know?" "And I am Pierre LeContreau, lieutenant of the navy of France. As to how I know, I am happy to tell you, your sister Clister Marie survives. She told me your name." "Marie!" "Very much alive. I cannot believe you have succeeded so well alone, Miss Jill. Where is your older sister, Annabelle?" "She's coming. She went to get Jake." * * * The man, as had become his morning habit, was soaking in his dank "bathtub," which was in fact little more than an eddy in the creek that fed the falls. Huffing from her climb, Belle swung her massive torso around a palm trunk and stood before him across this wide spot, with hands on hips, wearing her last tattered remnant of a petticoat blouse over a leaf skirt, a strange light in her eyes as they rested on the man, who was submerged except for his head. "What do you want?" he asked coldly. "Didn't you hear Jill screaming?" "Screaming?" He lunged to his feet. Her lip curled at the sight of his erection. So he preferred a fist to her swollen belly, did he? At least Jill had not succumbed yet to his further blandishments. She smiled secretly. All those worries were about to vanish. "Is she hurt?" he demanded, climbing out of the pool to face her. Grudgingly she gave him credit for the real anxiety in his voice. "Not yet," she retorted, "no thanks to you." "To me? I would never harm a hair of her head." "It's not her head I'm worried about." Jake shook his head impatiently. "What are you talking about, Belle?" "A ship's boat is coming ashore in the cove as we speak." "A ship... a ?" His mouth sagged and his eyes glared. "It flies the tricolor," she added, studying his reaction. He stared at her. "My god!" Suddenly he spun about, leaped over the creek and dashed away toward the ledge below. "We're saved!" she shouted to his back. Unaccountably she had to fling tears from her eyes as she stumbled after him. * * * " 'Iggins, do I understand correctly that you refuse to be removed from this otherwise uninhabited island?" Lt. LeContreau and most of his men by now had met all three castaways. He had kissed Belle's hand to Jill's annoyance and inspected their pitiful accommodations on the ledge. He had made notes while Jake related the general circumstances of the Fleeting Star's demise. Returning to the beach, the lieutenant had asked if they wished to remove anything along with their persons to his ship. Belle's answer was an uncompromising, "No." Jill wanted to keep a small iridescent shell. Jake wanted to retain the pistol and his long knife. When LeContreau agreed only on condition they be surrendered to his keeping, suddenly Jake declared an intention of staying behind. "I'll wait for the next ship," Jake added, hands on hips. He had pulled on his extremely ragged uniform trousers but was otherwise naked. "That may be a very long wait," the lieutenant argued. "Only French nationals are permitted to bear arms in the Marquesas, Mr. Higgins, but your property will be returned to you when you depart French territory." Jake's chest swelled. "That has an ominous sound, Lieutenant. Would you leave me unarmed in this cannibal hell-hole?" The officer shrugged. "It's the law." Jake backed away. "Then good-bye to you all. And don't try to stop me." LeContreau said something in French and Jake found himself facing two pistols and a musket, leveled with hammers cocked, while his own weapon was still in his belt. The lieutenant said softly, "I know about your repeating pistol, Mr. Higgins, but do you think you can fire it faster than three others at point-blank range?" He added something in French and the beardless oarsman swung wide around Jake, approaching him from the side. The lad reached gingerly toward Jake's belt. Jake gritted his teeth but let the pistol be removed and brought to the officer. Another word of French caused the weapons to be lowered. The lieutenant studied the Colts revolver curiously, then shoved it into his own belt. He said to Jake, "Very well, Mr. Higgins. I shall not force a man to be saved. It is stretching the rule a bit, but you may retain the bayonet. "If you keep your wits about you and stay in the woods to avoid projectile weapons, you may take comfort from knowing the natives have no better knife. Of course, sir, you may yet change your mind and come to Timuata with us. When you then depart our realm, I can return this interesting piece." Jake glowered at the man and took another step back. The lieutenant grunted and said to the wide-eyes girls, "Come, ladies, my men will help you take seats in the boat." "Hold!" cried Belle, raising her hand imperiously. "Mr. Higgins should not be left alone here to the danger of other women who may land." The lieutenant nodded. "I can see that you might have a valid interest in his accountability. But do you think he is dangerous to women?" "I know he is. He raped me." The officer drew back. "Madame, that is a most serious charge!" "Nevertheless it's true. If he denies it, both my sisters were witnesses. He got drunk on a floating cask of rum and took my virginity quite against my will." "Did that happen here, Miss Meron?" "Yes, sir, on this island." A volley of French led the three weapons to menace Jake again. "In that case, Mr. Higgins," the lieutenant declared, "you will come with us after all. In fact you shall have the seat of honor in the bow, where your hands can be tied with the painter." He added a phrase of French and two husky oarsmen advanced upon Jake, securing his arms and holding him while the others boarded. Jake shook his head as Belle passed before him. "I can't believe you would do this to me." She sniffed. "Did you think you'd get away from me so easily?" * * * The Ellette docked in the harbor at Timuata the next morning. Though it had been especially equipped with two oversized cotton shifts in aid of the girls' modesty, wives of the commandant's staff came aboard with servants bearing boxes from which decently European if less than glamorous clothing was found for Belle and Jill. They were led onto the dock in a gay procession past the staring waterfront idlers and into the common room of the stone fortress still abuilding. Behind them stumbled Jake, now restrained in chains and manacles, still wearing only his ruined uniform britches, having spent the night in the warship's prison in grim reflection on the ironies of fate. "I can't believe I was saved from the storm for !" Marie met her sisters just inside the raised portcullis. The whole procession stopped and milled about, the marines holding Jake well back, waiting stoically for the female passion to dissipate. She hugged and kissed them together and separately, all bending over Belle's belly, about which she said one word: "Jake!" Belle sighed. "Yes, of course. It was the only way to keep him from doing to Jill what he did to you." Marie's eyes sparkled. "Instead he did to you what he did to me." "Well, don't forget he injured me first." "Is that the word for it?" She turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Ko'u-e, !" The hovering women parted to let the dusky maid, skirted but barefooted and holding two infants to her breasts, approach. When she was near, Marie took one of the babes from her and held it up for Belle's inspection, saying with a smirk, "I think this shows who was injured first." Belle's eyes grew large and her lips parted. "You mean..." "That this is my son, John Jacob Meron." "My heavens!" Belle's hands went to her cheeks. "? Do you claim only Jake -- That chin!" "And that's not all. No, I don't claim only Jake. But he was first." "Wu Fong was your first!" "Well, yes, but Jake put my son in me the night before I was taken away. Where's Jake? Obviously the Hivans didn't kill him." "Can I hold your baby?" asked Jill, staring enviously. "For a short while, but give him back to Ko'u-e or he'll start crying. Where Jake?" "Back there." Jill twitched her head to indicate something behind them while gently gathering the swaddled babe into her arms. Two pairs of blue eyes stared into each other with instant love. Marie turned away, twisting through the crowd, her wide skirts swaying. "Jake!" she squealed when she spotted her objective, standing with hanging head between two marines. The guards moved to intercept her but stood aside in recognition of the personal nature of this attack. She almost leapt upon him, throwing her arms around his bare shoulders and showering his beard with kisses. "Jake," she squealed repeatedly. "Oh, Jake! I have so much to tell you." The man smiled, too. "You did live! I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." "I'm not!" She stood back, suddenly appreciating his manacled state. She glared at the nearest marine and demanded in French, "Why is this man chained?" Marie, now in a Parisian gown, was very much the woman grown and important. The marine gulped. "Lieutenant's orders, ." "Release him at once!" Her namesake, queen of France, could not have glared more imperiously. "But, madame, he is a prisoner, charged with rape, to be shown to the captain. He is a dangerous man, especially to women." "Belle!" Marie sniffed. "I know this man. He is not dangerous to me. I am the captain's ward. Release him in my custody." She locked eyes with the marine sergeant. He himself had seen this one on the beach in the captain's arms and knew well whose career nestled in whose hand. He took the key from his pocket and struck the manacles off his prisoner. "But, sergeant--" began his comrade. "Shut up!" was the sergeant's response. "You heard the lady." He said to Marie, "Tell him to mind you. If he breaks away I have orders to shoot him." Jake, who had understood only Belle's name of the whole exchange, stood with mouth hanging open. He flexed his freed wrists and ankles and stared at Marie in a mixture of disbelief and awe. She took his hand, smiled up at him and reverted to English. "The soldier has given you to me. Come on. The captain wants to see you." She frowned. "You need a bath. Where did you spend the night?" He grunted ruefully. "In prison again." "Belle told them you raped her?" "Yes, she did." "And you did it to her again?" "No!" "Then who put that baby in her?" "It was not rape!" "I'll bet thinks it was! Don't worry. I'll get you out of this. I know someone who's going to love you as much as I do." * * * The assembly did not have long to wait. It fell silent when a soldier grounded his musket and cried for attention. Naval captain Maurice duValier marched through a door at the back of the raised platform and took his seat at the elevated desk. Lt. LeContreau accompanied him, smiling at the ladies, frowning when he saw Jake's clearly unfettered state. The marine sergeant, expecting that reaction, pointed ostentatiously to Marie, still holding Jake's hand. The lieutenant's eyes narrowed but he nodded almost imperceptibly. Into the silence the captain intoned, "I extend the hospitality of the Marquesas to Annabelle Celeste Meron and to Jill Anna Meron, as previously done to their sister, Clister Marie Meron. These three, and one other, are the only survivors of the Fleeting Star, an American clipper that foundered on the shoal above Eloa during the great storm of July last. To them I say," -- he switched to fluent English -- "You ladies are welcome here in Timuata and in my home. My wife and I shall be pleased to receive you informally after this assembly." He continued in French, "My wife asks me to announce that when our new friends have recovered from their ordeal, we shall hold a reception for them. All officers and their wives are invited. We hope they will relate to us some of their history in America and, ah, China." He took a paper from his pocket. "Four people survived the wreck of the Fleeting Star. The fourth one is the man, Jacob Lester Higgins." In English he added, "Mr. Higgins, please step forth." Jake took a breath, squared his bare shoulders and walked forward before the platform, Marie still holding his hand. "Marie," the captain said not unkindly, still in English, "please step back." But Marie spoke in French. "This man is the father of my child. I ask you, Capt. duValier, to think what reason my sister might have to accuse him." The captain's eyes narrowed and he responded similarly, "Very well, but for this he must stand alone." Marie released Jake's hand and backed away. The captain stared down at the disheveled man, who sighed but returned his stare. In English he asked, "Mr. Higgins, Miss Annabelle Meron has charged you before the French navy with drunkenness and rape of her person on the night of 3 July, 1848: that is, the night after your mutual deliverance from the shipwreck. Do you deny that charge?" Jake's mouth twisted. "Honestly, your hon-- ah, sir, I don't know." "You don't ?" "I was, I admit, very drunk, sir. And Mar-- one of the girls told me later that she struck me in the head with a coconut. That may also have affected my memory of the event." "But you do not deny the charge." "I cannot, sir." The captain regarded him thoughtfully. "Your speech is that of a man with some education, Mr. Higgins, apparent even to one whose native tongue is not English. What was your position on the Fleeting Star?" "On the voyage to Canton I was first mate." "And on the voyage to New York?" Jake hesitated. The captain suggested, "You were no longer first mate?" Jake squared his shoulders. "No, sir. I was imprisoned, charged with barratry." "And were you guilty of barratry?" "The captain thought so. But he was wrong." "Can you account for your arrest?" "Yes, sir. Some of the cargo was wrongly marked, and the second mate wanted to be first." "Captain, cargo and mate now at the bottom of the sea?" "I believe so, sir." "Your barratry, if any, occurred beyond the jurisdiction of this command." The captain swung to Belle's attentive face. "Miss Meron, you have brought the charge of rape, which occurred on an island of the Marquesas. Do you wish to see this man loose his head?" Belle's eyes rounded in horror. "No, no, sir! Please don't kill him." The captain's hand rose to his beard to conceal his smile. "Then what compensation do you expect from French justice?" "I... don't know, sir. He is the father of my unborn child." "He can hardly deny that, either! And clearly it results from acts that he undertook well after last July. Do you charge additional rape, Miss Meron?" Belle blushed, lowering her eyes. "N-no, sir. I... accepted him to spare Jill." "He offered you a choice, did he?" "No, not in so many words. But she was curious, and I feared..." "The worst, did you? But he did spare her, did he? Very well, then, do you perhaps wish him to marry you?" Belle raised a strained face toward Jake. She took a shaky breath. "I would... m-marry him for the sake of my -- our baby, if he wished it." The captain opened his mouth to direct an obvious question to Jake, but Marie spoke first in English. "Hold on! He's the father of my child, too!" The captain frowned slowly, looking from one girl to the other. At last he turned to Jake. "And did you also rape Marie?" "No, sir, I did not!" "Very sure about that, are you?" "Captain, I swear I never had lewd designs on her." The officer's eyebrows rose. "Do you claim to recall no sexual contact with her either?" Jake dropped his eyes. "No, sir. We had... one night together." The captain sneered. "No doubt seduced you, is that it?" Jake stood straighter. "Sir, I did not rape her." "Aha, I see! raped !" Excited voices among the audience translated that charge into French. The captain looked about him with disgust, brought a reversed pistol up from beneath the desk and struck the surface with its butt. "Silence!" he roared and received it instantly. Lt. LeContreau, standing behind the captain, leaned forward, tapped him on the shoulder and engaged him in a whispered dialog. When the captain again faced forward, his eyes sought Marie. He stated in French, "I understand that this man was brought here in manacles. How is it, Miss Meron, that he appears unfettered now?" Marie's high voice did not lack confidence. "I ordered him released in my custody." " ordered?" "Yes, sir, as your ward." Knowing smiles appeared on several faces in the audience, after a moment on the captain's likewise. But only for a moment. His eyes narrowed as the smile vanished and he said to Marie, "You may regret that." He studied Jake thoughtfully as the latter's head swiveled anxiously from him to Marie, then addressed Jake in English. "Mr. Higgins, I offer you a choice. While awaiting the final disposition of your case, you may choose to languish in the Timuata dungeon. To be frank, sir, that be the better alternative! On the other hand, Miss Marie Meron has taken it upon herself to have you released into her custody. If you will give your oath to serve her faithfully as a manservant, to obey her in all things, you may choose that she continue as she has begun. What is your choice, Mr. Higgins?" The captain allowed the excited translations to proceed unhindered while a wide-eyed Jake stared at Marie, who winked at him provocatively. When an expectant silence fell, the captain asked, "Your decision, Mr. Higgins?" "I... I..." "The dungeon awaits if you cannot decide otherwise." "No, no! I swear... I swear I'll serve her." "Very well. I'll erect the guillotine for you in front of this building if you don't." The captain switched to French. "Marie, take possession of him. And get him a bath." * * * Marie led Jake by the hand through the rooms and corridors to the connecting personal quarters while other women cared for Belle and Jill separately. Among her familiar servants at last, Marie called out orders right and left. Reaching her bedroom, she bade Jake stand in the middle of it. "Don't touch anything," she said. "You're filthy!" He stood as if dazed, hands dangling at his side, watching as two husky and dark women, dressed only in long skirts, brought a tin bathtub into the room, then returned again and again with buckets of steaming water. A third woman, thinner, attended Marie, assisting her in removing the gown and all her voluminous undergirding. They spoke in French, apparently ignoring him. He understood not a word. But he could not ignore the very shapely woman -- no longer a mere girl -- revealed as Marie's last petticoat passed over her head. Her breasts and hips were large and heavy but her waistline was narrow. The dark tan she had acquired following him about the northern island was long faded. Her body hair was silky and the hair of her head was lush below her shoulders. A young dark woman, similarly skirted, came to the nude Marie with a baby on each hip: one light, one dark. Marie took the light one and put it to her own breast. Obviously male, he suckled hungrily. Jake inquired hesitantly, "Is that... maybe..." "Your son," Marie declared positively. "John Jacob Meron. You can play with him when you're cleaned up." She grinned. "I've only done the C with him." "The... sea?" "Remember C M M? He doesn't pee as long as you do. Not yet." She added something in French. One of the husky women came to him, hands extending to his waist. Marie said, "Your bath is ready, Jake. Give her your britches." He shrugged and peeled them down his legs. Marie backed away, making a face. "You are ! You never went so long without a bath before." "It's not that," he explained. "Ship prisons all stink." "Well, I think you've seen your last one. For rape, at least. Is the water too hot?" Almost, he wanted to say. He stepped over the tub edge and sat down gingerly. In a moment he began to relax. "Ah-h-h!" he breathed. A woman set a chair before the tub and Marie settled into it, her babe cradled in her arms. "We'll let you soak awhile, then my women will scrub you. Tell me what happened on the island after the Hivans took me away." "'Hivans?'" "That's their name in their own language. Were you badly hurt?" He grinned sourly. "About the same as what you did to me. Nothing happened to , but look what happened to !" She smiled. "I'll tell you all that later. I'm having a very good time, Jake, and now with you here it'll be so much better. If I could just find Wu Fong, too, it would be perfect. Ah, well! Even I know you can't have everything." She rattled in French. Another chair was placed beside the tub. The thin woman sat in it with a tray across her lap. Jake found a goblet of wine pressed to his lips. Marie continued in English, "But happened on the island. Look at Belle!" The wine was cool and sweet. He took several grateful swallows. "Well, yes. We, ah... You know, Marie, to be honest with you, I always wanted Belle." "Why? She hated you, you know." He sighed. "With reason, I admit. She hated me until I touched her. Then she loved me." "Huh! I think I know what you mean. You've got a part that's hard not to love. Tell me: did you put it into Jill?" He coughed. "Marie..." "Tell me." "Dear, I'd rather not talk about Jill. She's too young for us." "For ? How old do you think I am?" "14, aren't you? Lot's of girls marry at 14." "Yes. I need to, so the captain says. But, Jake..." She waited for him to accept the confection pressed to his mouth. "Do you remember when I told you I was your slave?" "Well, yes." He chuckled grimly around his mouthful. "Things have got a little mixed up." "You think so? Just that you're my slave, too. A slave has to obey his master. Did you fuck Jill?" He sighed as he swallowed. "She learned my weakness, and she wanted it as bad as you did. I meant to give it to her, too, but when it hurt her, I backed off. She was so young I was afraid it would hurt her." "You didn't put it in her?" "No. She did bleed, but I left her maidenhead intact." "How do you know?" "You can tell that with a tongue." Marie smiled lazily. "Well, she may still have it now, but she won't when she leaves here." He agreed dryly, "I know the French reputation." "They deserve it. They don't think at all like my father did. But you don't either, Jake." "Yes, I do." He dropped his eyes. "I just don't live up to it." She shook her head. "Bet he never heard of the Boston Lass." He took more wine. "Maybe not. But let's talk about you. What's going to happen to you now -- you and your sisters?" "Oh, we'll be all right. I'll stay here. Capt. duValier wants to adopt me as his daughter. ! I rather like it. He's far sweeter than most fathers, I gather, but I like that, too. As for Belle and Jill, well, did you know we're all rich, Jake?" "Rich?" "My sweet new papa has told me all about it. Father owned 23 per- cent of the Fleeting Star, which means that we sisters own 23 per- cent of the insurance proceeds, and that's over eight million pounds." "You don't mean pounds sterling!" "But I do!" "Good god, 40 million dollars! Your share would be three million apiece." "More than that." She grinned at him. "Want to marry me, Jake? Or do you prefer Belle?" "I... Good god!" "You could marry both of us. The law here is whatever the captain says it is. Of course, Belle would never agree, despite that little speech she made in the assembly. She'll go back to Massachusetts, after her baby is born, and take Jill with her. Belle is not going to get along with the French any better than Father would have." The girl chuckled. "They're too much like the Chinese." She said something over her shoulder. All three serving women came forward with brushes, cloth and soap. They scrubbed him tenderly, back and front, cupping their hands with water for head and beard. Marie watched with a slight smile, the woman with the dark baby looking over her shoulder. When the women paused, Marie called, "Stand up, Jake." Their hands had already fondled his genitals more than a little. He rose to his feet with some trepidation, exposing a fat manhood almost erect. The women sucked in their breath, commenting among themselves in short barks and giggles. One leaned over the tub and scrubbed the admired object vigorously between well-soaped hands. He felt other soapy fingers enclosing his testicles and penetrating his anus. Marie laughed. "Do you know you're blushing, Jake? Next time I'll have a mirror so you can see your face." She added something in French and the fast hands fell away. Involuntarily his hips moved to follow them. "Oh, no, Jake. We'll save that for a better use, but I'm glad you liked it." At her commands in two languages he stepped out of the tub. Two of the women dried him while the third scrubbed his feet, lifting one at the time. Again Marie laughed. "Does it tickle, Jake?" They enclosed him in a silken robe and sat him in a padded chair. He realized that a man had come into the room, apparently a barber from the tools he bore. Neither Marie nor the other women, some equally naked to spare their skirts during his bath, seemed concerned for modesty. "This man shaves the captain, Jake. He'll cut your hair and shave you. You've gone pretty shaggy, my love." Jake sighed. "I suppose. Did you say, 'shave' me?" "That's right." Her voice hardened. "I want everyone to see that cleft in your chin." His face clouded up but only for a moment. He shrugged. "Yes, mistress." "Jake!" She lifted her chin. "You know my reason. Look at this boy. Would you deny him?" She stood over the man and thrust her baby against his chest. His arms rose hesitantly to support it. He stared at the child's face, then between the legs. He admitted shakily, "No, I... guess I can't." He smiled. "John Jacob, eh? Where'd you get the John?" "He needed another name, but my father always hated his." Jake cocked his head. "You know, this is not a bad looking lad!" "And neither will you be. Now let the barber proceed." A woman knelt to cut low upon fingernails and toenails while the barber danced around her, snipping high, a hot cloth softening Jake's beard the while. In the background he heard the tub first emptied then removed. He twitched when someone took his flaccid manhood, insecurely covered by the robe, in hand and peeled it back. The inspection, though repeated twice, was brief. Whether barber or a woman he could not tell, though he suspected -- and hoped -- the latter. Not a word of English passed any lips around him. When towel came off and razor took its place, all the women stood close to watch the operation, volubly commenting in French. He wondered what afforded them so much entertainment. Finally the barber dusted him with talc and rose water before departing. He sneezed, then smiled contentedly at the hovering Marie, who nodded. "The exact same cleft! In fact you're much more handsome without the beard, Jake. Didn't you know that?" "Uh, thank you. I used to shave, but it's such a lot of trouble." "Not any more. Could you get accustomed to it, Jake?" "I don't know. I wonder if heaven is like this." "Isn't this close enough? We'll try a bath together soon. Right now someone wants to see you up close." He grinned. "What else can you do to me?" She arched an eyebrow. "Quite a bit, in fact." She gave her baby to the dark woman and extended her hand to Jake. "Come along." He stood up. Suddenly aware of his exposure, he pulled the robe closed and asked, wide-eyed, "Where are we going?" "Through that door." "Don't you... have something more for me to wear?" "No, unless you prefer to dress as I do." She stood stark naked and smiling. A drop of milk trembled on one of her nipples. She led him to an unfamiliar door that opened to her knock. An older serving woman, heavy breasts sagging above an ample skirted belly, stood holding the door. He followed Marie into a larger, fancier bedroom. A very large four-poster bed occupied the center, veils obscuring its occupant. As they approached the veils were drawn from the inside, and Jake found himself presented to a woman sitting on the high edge. She regarded him from sparkling dark eyes in an unsmiling Gallic face, black hair loose to her shoulders though beribboned in pink. She wore a filmy pink garment through which heavy body, dark nipples and pubic triangle were discernible. Marie spoke in French, from her tone a set speech containing his name, then followed in English: "Mme. Nanette duValier, my patroness, may I present Mr. Jacob Higgins, my lover." She nudged Jake, who stammered, "Uh, ah, I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs., ah, duValier." The dark eyes twinkled. "Nanette," she directed. "Nanette," he corrected himself. "And I'm Jake." She extended her hand, palm down. Though he had never done such a thing before in his life, he was inspired to raise it to his lips and bending over it, kiss the back. Her response was to rotate it and rub the ball of her thumb along the cleft in his chin. She smiled at him and said something in French. As he straightened up, Marie translated: "She agrees with half the evidence of little Jake's father." To his discomfort Marie suddenly parted his robe. She struck his hands away when he moved with a start to cover himself. "Surely you're not ashamed of it!" He felt heat on his face that spread down his chest when she dropped to one knee and took him in her mouth. He stood with sagging chin and dangling fists, staring into the woman's amused eyes, while Marie suckled him noisily and cupped his testicles. In a moment she released him, now rampantly erect, and turned to see the effect upon the woman, who took an audible breath. Her eyes were no longer amused. She spoke animatedly in French. Marie looked up at him. "Jake, how long since you made spunk?" "Ah, uh, since day before yesterday." After an exchange in French she added, "Nanette wants to taste a man so potent as you." The woman shrugged out of her peignoir and backed fully up onto the bed. She took Jake's hand and gently pulled him after her. "Would you like to taste her, too, Jake?" From that he understood what was wanted. The woman lay back, arms and legs spread, and he reversed himself atop her. He felt her hands grasp him, followed by a rough wet stroking, then wet contact along the entire shaft. He gasped involuntarily, wide eyes on the grinning Marie. But the aroma below his face drew his own tongue. He found the woman more than expectant. The wine sang in his veins and he applied himself with a will. Shortly her hips were moving in response to his strokes and she groaned nasally behind him. "I knew it," murmured the hovering girl complacently. "And you'll love Nanette, too. Just wait till you fuck her properly." She peered under the man's torso at the woman's face, beet red, nostrils flaring for stentorian grunts, eyes clamped shut, mouth relaxing as a thick stream of seminal fluid escaped a corner of the lips. She smiled with a distant look. "Nanette likes to sing, too. Between times you can teach us all the rest of 'The Boston Lass.'" END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 50