I loved your reviews so far J Thank you for your thoughts and the time you took reviewing. Responses are posted at the end of the chapter, as I love discussing with you guys.
Also: Don’t have sex with pirates (or other strangers!) without a condom, kids! You don’t know what kinda port they’ve been in.
As you guys may know, Captain Charles Vane was a real pirate from 1716 to 1721. I’m trying to incorporate as much real facts into this story as humanly possible (the time jump, obviously, probably didn’t happen though), though there might be some mix-ups because information about him varies. Captain Vane is displayed a little younger in this story than he was during 1720/1721 in real life (about thirty to his actual forty-one when he died) just to make it a smidgen hotter.
**
“What do you mean he’s still gone?!” Steph lifted her hands in a placating gesture in the face of Patrick’s rage.
“Calm down, buddy. I’m sure he’s fine. He had a drink, he hooked up…he’s probably sleeping it off.”
Patrick was pacing the promenade restlessly. He’d thrown on a rumpled shirt he had grabbed from the backseat of his car, his hair was mussed and had lost its original, carefully tended style completely. There were hickeys all over his neck and scratch marks along one biceps. He’d had one hell of a night apparently. Steph pursed her lips unhappily. “It’s not like you were around to keep an eye on him either, loverboy.”
He rounded on her with almost a snarl, then abruptly dropped his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s my fault as well as yours.” She let that comment slide; Rhett was a friend, but she had been working. Babysitting a twenty-year-old was not the job of the girl behind the bar. “I tried calling him like a hundred times-“
Tristan, Steph’s elder brother, was leaning against his car, a bulky Range Rover, with his arms crossed over his chest and a brooding expression on his handsome face. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s dying to answer your calls when he’s having the night of his life. Stephanie, when did you say he left?” Her dark eyes lifted to him; their grandmother had been Asian and it showed in the mildly exotic slant of their eyes, the pure blackness of their hair and the easy tan they maintained. Both were tall, athletic; Tristan packed carefully maintained muscle atop of that and made an imposing impression. His comment stopped even Patrick’s pacing.
“Around eleven, I think. Shortly after the group arrived. Look, I’m really freaked out, maybe we should call the cops or something? They were probably just clowns thinking to crash the party, but everyone else that hooked up with them came back before I even closed up. I know, they’re all in that bitchy sorority. Just Rhett didn’t come back,” she wrapped her arms around herself, cold even with the cardigan she’d thrown over her bikini top and swim shorts. “What if they kidnapped him?”
Tristan seemed oddly unhappy about the change of events, Steph thought. It wasn’t like her brother to worry over people he barely knew. He’d met Rhett a few times when he and Patrick had come to parties or hung out at Steph’s place, but she hadn’t thought he’d be actually worried about some kid that went missing. “The cops won’t do a thing until he’s missing for a few days,” he said coolly, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll call you back when he’s awake. Stop fretting and get some sleep.” It seemed the topic was closed for him with that, turning to get back into his Jeep. Steph shot a guilty look at Patrick as she went to follow him. “You gonna be okay?”
Patrick sighed and leaned against the hood of his car. “I’ll wait here until he calls me back. Who knows where that queer dragged him.”
**
Rhett woke rather comfortable. He lay on a moderately comfortable bed; the mattress was thinner than what he was used to but by no means did it hurt his back. Wherever he was, it was rocking him idly, which felt very nice really. He stretched a little and winced immediately – he was incredibly sore, his thighs, back, and especially his ass stung with each move, and he was stuck to the sheets. Peeling his eyes open he saw round windows, a heavy desk in the middle of the room, a few barrels against the other wall. The night prior came crashing back to him: fuck, he’d slept with a pirate.
“Seems I got my booty plundered,” he snickered to himself throatily, immediately thirsty. Rhett sat up, grimacing when the skin of his thigh and hip came away from the sheets with the sting of loosening something that was glued together. He saw his clothes by the desk, sadly consisting of flipflops and his swim trunks only, his walk of shame would be legendary. No way he could make it look as if he was just taking a walk on the beach, he was sure to be limping. He got up very carefully, went to the heavy earthenware jug he could see on a table near the wall and had to stick his hand in, cupping water in his palm to drink because it was too heavy to lift. He used the same water to wash his face and wetted one leg of his swimtrunks to clean away the traces of cum still on him, wincing when he put them on after. One drink, and he’d been completely humiliated. But fuck, it had been hot…
The door opened and he looked back to see his one-time lover enter the cabin. Well, one-time wasn’t quite right…Charles had taken him twice more in the night with short naps inbetween, which was probably the reason he was so very sore. Startled, Rhett noticed they hadn’t used condoms at all. “You’re clean, right?”
“Morning to ye too, love,” Vane drawled amusedly, stalking to the desk and picking up one of the rolled maps there as well as the bottle that sat there in a hole in the thick wood like in a cupholder, taking a swig. “Aye, I do wash, you know. You need not believe everything you hear about pirates.”
Rhett rolled his eyes.” Not what I meant, but okay. Whatever. What time is it?” He was a little annoyed with the man’s blasé attitude about the topic.
“Mid-morning.”
Well. At least it was Sunday and it wasn’t like Rhett attended church. He’d been raised catholic; they’d turn their backs on him anyway if they ever found out what he did last night. “Uhm, I’ll be on my way then. Can I use one of those little boats to get back to the beach?”
Now Vane did look at him, raising one brow. He looked deliciously unkempt, his thick blond hair pulled back messily, the bristles of his beard even more pronounced than last night. His sensuous lips quirked amusedly. “Lad, what are you talking about?” He came over and caught his chin; Rhett jerked his head back with a frown.
“I want back to the beach. What did you think, I’d be hired into your crew?”
“That was the plan.”
Rhett took a step back. He didn’t want to be part of some actor pirate group and the situation was quickly becoming scary; it didn’t look like Vane was kidding. He looked amused, yes, but likely he was amused by Rhett’s antics, he wasn’t playing a trick on him. A spot of panic unfurled in him like poisonous vines. “Get me back to shore.”
The Captain shook his head. “We’re too far out already. I’m not turning back because you are at a whim, if we’re detected by the wrong people, we’re all dead. That includes you, love.”
“Charles, I’m not kidding, this isn’t funny,” the younger protested, trying to dash past him. He’d swim back to shore if he had to. Didn’t things always wash up on the beach? Why shouldn’t he? Vane grabbed his arms before he got to the door.
“Now listen up, brat, stop making a fuss and shut your mouth,” he growled into Rhett’s ear, keeping a tight grip on his biceps. “Listen well. We’ll turn back after I finished business, you can go to shore then or whatever port we stop on, I don’t quite care, but you will NOT play the pampered princess.” He shook him a little. “D’you understand me?” Rhett tried to pull away, only to be yanked back. His arm began to hurt.
“When are you coming back here then? A week? Two? Where’s your next gig?”
Vane noticed the edge of desperation bleeding into the boy’s voice and gentled his grip. “We’re going to Honduras. A year, perhaps, maybe eight months if we get good wind.” He should have kept his grip because the lad ripped away from him with an incredulous gasp, spinning to face him and backed away. “What the hell is wrong with you! This is kidnapping! I want to go home right now! I’ll call the cops on your, I swear-“ He ripped open the door and stormed out onto the deck to just grab one of those boats or throw himself over board – only to see he didn’t see anything. Well, nothing but water. Helplessly, he turned about, dread spreading through him; the shore was nowhere in sight. The skyline was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t see land at all.
“Will you stop your racket now!,” Vane thundered as he came after him, meaning to catch him, but not suspecting the lad would just sink against him when he reached him. “We’re too far from the shore to turn back.”
“Bastard,” Rhett whispered with numb lips; he saw they were attracting stares by the crew laboring on deck and some of the rough looking men were murmuring to each other. Vane grit his teeth and reached around the lad’s waist, casting a look around the deck. Calico Jack Rackham, named such for the clothing he wore, was whispering with another of the crewmates. Vane turned his back and all but dragged Rhett back to the cabin. “Set course to Tortuga!,” he barked at the crew who scurried to obey. In his mind, he already plotted the resources, the stops they would have to make to reach the freehaven. The men were sated for now, there was alcohol and food in the Ranger’s belly, they had had their fun. He wasn’t even sure anymore why he had chosen to bring along the brat, who could only be a senator’s spoiled son by how perfect his skin was and how he made such a fuss. It had seemed a fun pastime to have his own bedwarmer, now in the daylight it looked more like a hassle.
“Lad, listen to me,” he started conversationally as they went through the door into the Captain’s cabin, thinking he’d be reasonable and console the kid a little – when Rhett turned to him, suddenly strengthened, and all but shoved him, only to slam the door in his face. “Ey! Brat!” The sound of a key turned forcefully was the only thing he heard.
**
“Why did you take him along?” Jim asked, a little plaintively. Vane stood behind the steering wheel, brooding and unhappy; the redhaired young man sat on the railing next to him and poured over one of the maps. He studiously kept his eyes on the parchment, not looking up at him even as Vane sent him an annoyed look. “Why the hell not?”
Seagreen eyes rose, fringed by pale lashes, familiar and accusatory. “I don’t like it.”
Vane looked him over, contemplating. Steering always made him feel calmer, more in control; he controlled this vessel, in body as well as in authority. It only barely kept his anger at bay. The brat had locked him out of his own cabin. And Jim seemed restless, unhappy, although he couldn’t care less about another person on board, really. He didn’t get it. “Why?”
The pale brows drew together and Jim’s face took on an incredulous expression before he shook his head sharply and scoffed. “You could have ransomed him out instead. More gold, less mouths to feed.”
“You didn’t come along to shore. That was a strange place, all those young people unsupervised. None of them was a poor fellow for sure. There was something very odd about that place,” Vane replied sternly. “I don’t even begin to understand what happened there. The currency wasn’t gold, but paper…can you imagine? They paid with paper. Must be savages, really. I didn’t think there were savages in Florida.”
Jim shrugged, uneasy. “Savages or no, you didn’t have to take one. No one else took a slave.”
Vane frowned. “He’s not a slave.”
“Then what will you do with him? From the looks of him, he’s too soft to handle the ropes, the sails, or anything else but your cock, really.”
The captain blinked, startled. He had never heard Jim speak so contemptuously of anyone; the young navigator was quite the easy-going fellow usually. “And if so,” he replied at length. “It is my business. Maybe I need a cock handler.” The look Jim gave him was quite frozen, and the smile that followed looked forced. “Of course you do, Captain. Of course.” He slipped from the railing. “We’re making good time so far, the wind is-“
He didn’t come any father as the Ranger lurched suddenly and tipped to one side precariously, the water lapping at the high side suddenly. Vane reached out and caught Jim before the navigator could tumble into the water. A loud crack of thunder rolled over them even though the sky was blue and sunny. “Sails down!” Vane barked; the crew was attaching their ropes just as the ship pitched into an upward position again, throwing two crew members into the sea. They didn’t resurface. Vane noticed the barest hint of milkiness in the water that surrounded them, it melted away too quickly though to make Jim note it as well. He held the wheel with one hand and the redhead with the other; before they could loosen the sails, it was over. An electric unpleasantness crackled over Vane’s skin and he shuddered, clutching Jim tighter to himself. “Bonnet!”
It was Calico Jack that came to him, face downcast. “The sea got him, Captain.”
A burst of unadultered pain ripped through Vane’s chest. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the wheel, lips pressed into a tight line. He gave a jerky nod. “Set the sails for Tortuga,” he told Calico Jack instead, who saluted and was off. Jim bore his face against his chest.
**
Vane returned to the Captain’s cabin after dealing with new appointments – Calico Jack had been made first mate due to seniority, and he had found someone to take over his former job as Master of the Ropes – he had left Jim at the wheel for now. He knocked, but noticed the door had been unlocked; inside, the brat sat on the bed, rubbing his head. The cabin was in complete disarray, not a wonder with the violent lurch the Ranger had made only half an hour ago. Vane felt a note of pity at seeing the lad there: in his strange clothes which could neither be very comfortable or warm, nursing an injury where he had probably bashed his head during the strange incident, a handshaped bruise wrapping around his arm. “There’s been an incident.”
Rhett looked up at him and scoffed. “No kidding. Where did you learn to drive?” It was an odd remark, Vane thought, closing the door behind himself and moving over to the bed. He lifted Rhett’s hand away from his head and grabbed a lantern to see if he was bleeding; there was swelling which was due to be tender, but the skin had not broken. He set the lantern down and lightly combed some of the auburn hair over the bump. Rhett hissed.
“I apprenticed on the Queen Anne’s Revenge,” he told him quietly in answer to his question. “I did learn to steer a ship there, but I can tell ye I didn’t ever encounter anything like this. And the second time in a day’s time, no less.”
Rhett looked up at him; the man still hadn’t shaved, and he looked a little shaken, the fine lines around his eyes more pronounced. “That’s the name of Blackbeard’s ship, isn’t it?” Now that seemed to please the captain. “Ah, so you know. Aye, that is her. Hardest four years of my life, lemme tell ye.” He sat down heavily next to him after grabbing the bottle off the desk and putting it to his lips, grumbling when he noticed it was angry; it must have spilled during the lurch. Vane got up again and went to the barrels at the other side of the cabin, uncorking one and filling the bottle. “When me and Scar came of age, there was a week-long celebration, ye know.” He recorked the barrel and took a few deep swallows. The rum burned down his throat and into his belly, filling him with warmth. He had felt quite cold ever since counting the losses to his crew.
“Who’s that?”
Vane looked back at the lad at the question. Seeing him there, thinking of Scar, he got the impression of long, dark red hair, eyes the same color blue looking at him. “Ah, my best friend, lad. We haven’t seen each other in some time, sadly.” He came back over and stretched out next to him, bottle at the ready, arms crossed behind his head. “A full seven days of drinking, jokes and stories, good food. I thought that was heaven right there, lad.” He grinned and looked at him. “Teach had just rejected his royal pardon, brave, proud man that he was, and we sailed to Ocracoke Island – that’s up in the Carolinas, lad.” He saw Rhett nod, but the boy didn’t say a word, watching him quietly. His expression was unreadable. “We had capered a galley on the way and dragged her along instead of plundering her, beauty of a ship, filled to the deck with rum and salted meat. It took us seven full days and nights to empty all of the barrels.” Vane closed his eyes with a satisfied smile. That had been the best week of his life. “After that, Captain Teach cut us loose, Scar and me, gave us ships, made us Captains in our own rights. Good man, that. It’s a pity.” He shook his head and took another swig; lying down, dark amber rum trickled from the corners of his mouth and vanished in his beard. “He was killed two years ago, almost on the day.” Those dark eyes closed with a heavy sigh.
Rhett though frowned to himself. The only stuff he knew about pirates came from Pirates of the Caribbean and some pirate novels, but some facts had stuck. “Captain Teach…is also named Blackbeard, isn’t he.”
Vane opened an eye to glance at him. “He was, lad. As I said, he’s dead.”
“You had a party with Blackbeard.”
“Aye.”
“…just how much did you drink today?”
The Captain turned his head to look at him with a frown. “What are ye blabbering about, lad? I just told you a story of my life. A sad one at that.”
“But Blackbeard died in 1718.” The number had stuck.
“Aye, lad. As I said. He’s dead two years now, and I miss him like it was yesterday.”
Numb, Rhett didn’t dare calculate the years in his mind. “What year is it?”
“Lad, are you daft? It’s 1720.”
**
“Strange things’ve been happening lately,” Calico Jack Rackham murmured to the group of five sitting with him at the helm of the ship, well away from the rest of the crew and the Captain especially. “I say we throw him and his new pet over board before the sun rises. The sea wants him, you saw her trying to swallow him twice now. She’s placated by the flesh she got, but she won’t rest until we’re all deep in her belly, him especially.”
Another of the men, a ragged, thin fellow by the name of Bostock, shook his head. “Nay, Calico Jack, I will not hear any of this. What you say is mutiny.” The other four murmured affirmingly.
“It’s not mutiny if he’s not Captain any longer then is it,” Calico Jack replied sternly, although he didn’t dare raise his voice too far. Of the whole crew, consisting of some twenty men, only these five could be trusted to keep their yaps shut about this dangerous plot. “I, for one, don’t wish to be swallowed down. If we don’t throw him into the waves, I will leave at the next port.” It was a bold statement, he knew that, and it guaranteed the others would be impressed by his strength of will.
“Nay, Calico Jack,” Bostock repeated. “Nay, I will have no part in this. I will not tell, as we’ve known each other for years, but I will not mutiny against the Captain. He would certain strike us down. Ye know what happened to the last ones.”
Calico Jack pondered. So the only point for the captain was the fear of his strength and cruelty. He could certainly work with that.
The reign of Captain Charles Vane was as good as over as far as he was concerned.
**
Katniss Everdeen: Yes, I thought about the disease thing too. But, you know, Rhett’s drunk and Vane hasn’t ever heard of a condom before, and should the topic fall to it, the lovely smut would take a somewhat uncomfortable note…like, Rhett asking for one and Vane laughing and just turning him around again :/ But yes, of course you’re right. Don’t do it without a rubber if you’ve been whoring! I haven’t even thought about the Coast Guard yet though!
dazedandconfused: I’m sorry the summary is confusing so far L I tried to make it as explaining as possible while still being a little ominous! As you saw in this chapter, the ship travelled back into the eighteenth century through the time gap. I hope things become clearer after this J
