A Pirate’s Tale, Parts 4 and 5

Copyright © April 2017 by Theo Fenraven
Note: Times were different then, and kids grew up fast. Our modern laws do not apply to this story.



Captain Cager set a new course the next day, informing the crew he was heading for New Spain. “The Caribbean is played out, men. We’ll try new waters.”

“And what if we don’t agree?” Skunk, an old-timer with one eye, demanded.

“Once we make landfall, you can do what you like.”

Wiley watched from a corner of the deck, not surprised at the rumbling from the crew. They’d had an easy time of things for a while and couldn’t conceive of things changing, but Wiley knew the wind was shifting. He’d heard smarter men than himself talking at the tavern. The captain was right to go elsewhere before the authorities boxed them in so tight, they couldn’t get out. It was one reason why he’d stowed away on the ship. That, and he was bored. Nassau wouldn’t be any fun without the pirates. He wanted to see some things before he died, and he figured his best opportunity lay with Captain Cager.

“And we get a fair share of the treasure below?” Skunk was persistent, Wiley’d give him that.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, yes. I’ve never treated you badly, ain’t that right?” Most of the men raised their arms and cheered, agreeing. “Trust me a little longer, and none of us will swing from the noose.”

There were more cheers. Cager dismissed them, and they returned to their duties. Quill stepped closer to the captain on the bridge, lifting an eyebrow. Cager shook his head—a warning?—and left him, going to his cabin.

Wiley looked at the endless horizon and wondered how the crew would feel when they realized Cager was retiring.


Making good time, they drew close to the island-studded coast of Spanish Florida. The men clamored to drop anchor and hunt. They wanted fresh meat, and after considering it briefly, Cager authorized landfall and sent a contingent ashore.

They soon returned with a good-sized young boar, which Manny cut up and cooked in the oven, because the men were sick of boiled and salted meat. They stuffed themselves with roast pork, seasoned with precious spices. Potatoes accompanied the meat, and Cager allowed everyone a measure of grog. The dancing on the deck afterward went on into the early morning.

Wiley ate his fill for the first time in weeks, drank his watered rum, and sang along with everyone else, performing a jig that was roundly applauded. Long after the moon had set, he stumbled below, staggering to his hammock in the crew quarters, and was waylaid by Manny.

“The captain wants you.” His eyes twinkled. “Be quick now.”

Wiley changed direction, stopping only to piss over the side before bouncing along the corridor to Cager’s cabin.

Quill grabbed him the instant he set foot inside. “Fancy a tumble, boy?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Excellent.” Quill walked him to the bed, where Cager was already lying. “Here’s a juicy piece of meat for you, Micajah. Nice and ripe for the taking.”

The captain yanked Wiley onto the bed and got on top of him. “Tonight, I want you to fuck me. Your cock is just the right size for my rear passage. Quill?” He glanced over his shoulder at the quartermaster, who was laughing. “Too big. Hurts when he reams me.” He smiled. “Good nonetheless, but I’ve a mind to try something more pint-sized.”

Wiley colored, thinking he’d been insulted.

Cager slapped him lightly, accurately reading his expression. “None of that now. We can’t all be blessed with a huge rod, like Aquilla here. Be thankful for what you’ve got. I once ran into a man with a dick the size of a two-inch bolt. Couldn’t even feel him.”

Mollified, Wiley jacked himself erect and climbed on Cager, who’d rolled onto this stomach. “Oil?” he asked Quill, who’d undone his pants and was stroking himself in anticipation.

“On the table.” He groaned. “Hurry up. I’m already close.”

Wiley wondered what would happen when they tired of him, as they surely would. He was nothing special. He knew that. Boys like him were plentiful in Nassau.

But you’re not in the Bahamas now, so wake up and pay attention. Do well and maybe they’ll keep you around.


About Fenraven

Fenraven happily lives in south Florida, where it is really hot most of the year. Find him on Twitter, Google +, and Facebook by searching on 'fenraven'.
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