Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

Chapter III: Bartholomew Roberts

I thought I might have a solution to the problem of any further intrusion by outsiders. The Siren’s twelve-pounder, I was sure, could bring down the leading edge of the cliff, thus blocking the entrance to the channel. I told Atiena that I would investigate the possibility after we had returned to the bay. If we were successful, the villagers could still safely travel down to the bay should they wish to.

Tempted as I was to remain with Yaima and the sisters for a while longer, I explained that I dared not be away from my other ship for too long, as there was work to do back at the bay.

Atiena said she and Yaima would visit us in a few days. They asked that we not depart for the open sea before they arrived. Two of the natives would travel back downriver with us, and they would show us how to avoid the dangers of the forest.

The return journey was less arduous than the excursion upriver had been. The current was sufficient to carry us along, with only the occasional need for the cutter to tow us about the more difficult bends.

A joyous cheer erupted from the Majestic when we reappeared. Jensen rowed out to meet us just as quickly as he could get a boat crew together, coming alongside even as our anchor plunged to the bottom. I was pleased that his first inquiry was for the well-being of Yaima and the natives.

He pointed to the galleon. “She’s likely a lot older than we thought at first. Every coin we’ve recovered that has a date on it is from the fifteen-hundreds. There is nothing after.” He saw my grin. “You’ve found out something too, I see.”

I told him a brief version of what I had learned, but I was careful to make no mention of the gold and jewels that the sisters possessed. I wanted that information to remain a secret. When I mentioned the shrine of Sofia, he pointed along the beach. “We found it, hidden in the edge of the forest a short way over there.”

“You did?” I asked, astonished. “It hasn’t been touched, nothing taken?” He shook his head but looked puzzled. “It was built by Yaima’s ancestor and her partner, I believe her fifth or sixth great-grandmother,” I explained. “I doubt she knows it still exists. I would like to take her there before we go.”

It was Marianna’s turn to interject. “Can we get to the subject of the Santa Sofia? How has your salvage been going?”

Jensen laughed, as did the few men who had come over with him. “We are rich beyond anything you could begin to understand,” he said. “We have recovered thousands upon thousands of gold and silver coins. There are ingots on the ship as well, but we have only taken a quick look so far. The whole ship is ready to collapse. I don’t understand how she’s still in one piece. But unless we can come up with some kind of plan, those ingots are staying where they are.” Another laugh. “But it hardly matters, we already have enough for every man to do as he pleases for the rest of his life.”

Naturally, I thought he exaggerated. Later, though, I saw for myself the astonishing amount so far recovered. And still, the hoard was growing, with chests of gold and jewels everywhere. It was impossible to estimate what each of us was now worth, but certainly, any one of us could buy his own island or a very large plantation.

Our prospects, however, hinged on several significant questions.

How did a simple-minded sailor deal with having that amount of gold? What did he do with it? He couldn’t just bank it, especially not in the West Indies. How did he spend it? In fact, how did he even carry it?

Then there was the small matter of most of us being branded as pirates. The gold would only draw attention to ourselves. Then, too, there was the problem of sailing with a king’s ransom on our two ships. Word would be bruited about soon enough, as sailors can’t help boasting when they get a tot of rum in them. At that point, every ship in the Caribbean would be hunting for us.

In many ways, we would have been better off had we found only a few handfuls to be shared, and not this vast fortune.

Calling a meeting of my officers and senior hands, I explained the dilemma we faced. It was clear none had taken the time to think it through, and the reality of the situation brought them back to earth with a resounding thump. The men would have to be told, that much was clear, but what the solution could be, I had not the faintest idea.

***

The following day the master gunner laid small charges around the Santa Sofia. We would collapse the ship and, so we hoped, gain access to the rest of the gold. Heaven only knew why we wanted anymore, but it seemed a waste to leave it sitting where it was. A lookout was sent to the cliff top to ensure there were no ships in sight before we fired the charges.

Individually, each charge was quite small, but collectively they comprised a considerable amount of gunpowder. The explosion, when it came, was louder than most expected. The jungle erupted with the sound of frightened parrots squawking in their thousands. Many stunned fish rose to the surface of the bay.

The smoke and dust cleared to reveal only a few oak ribs still standing. All else had been obliterated. Most of the water-logged timbers had sunk, while a few floated slowly away on the current. But, there in the middle, just protruding from the water, was the mountain of gold ingots glittering in the sunshine for the first time in over a century.

The carpenter built chests from any sound wood he could retrieve from the wreckage. These we filled with the treasure and ferried to our two ships.

We also found one gun worth keeping. It was made of bronze, beautifully carved and decorated. We didn’t really need more artillery, but this was too good to leave behind. Nateby, our master gunner, took a great deal of pleasure in cleaning it up.

Halcombe and Nateby had surveyed the cliffs. They thought it unwise to touch the outer, seaward section, as there was a danger of the whole arm collapsing and revealing more of the interior, thereby making matters worse. The inner side of the channel was already unstable, however, and should be easy enough to bring down, Halcombe said. The risk, he added, was that we might inadvertently dam the river, which would lead to flooding.

“I reckon we’re all finished, Captain. There’s hardly any gold left to find,” said Jensen, taking a seat on a barrelhead. “We’ve taken on water, fresh fruit, salted fish and pork, and we have a cage full of wildfowl. We’re done.”

“Atiena and Yaima should be here soon,” I said. “I don’t want any crewmen ashore when they arrive. A select few will stay with us, and I want both ships ready to make sail. We will be back on board as quickly as possible.”

***

Morning light saw both ships with anchors short-hauled, sails ready to unfurl. Nateby had laid his charges along the cliff, most on a fault line at the top, rather than at the base. It was going to be a long and tense wait while the fuse lines burned. We weren’t going to use the twelve-pounder after all.

Just as the sun’s rays touched the summits of the hills upriver, a dozen or more canoes rounded the bend. The natives were adorned with red and yellow dyes on their skin and brightly coloured feathers in their hair. Many were armed with bows and poisoned arrows, clearly alert for any danger.

Two of the canoes had poles stretched between them. These supported a platform with two raised seats upon which Atiena and Yaima sat, each with a girl standing behind her. Another, longer canoe carried six pretty young girls, but oddly, they were not wearing the habits of the order. They appeared to be commoners from the village.

One canoe beached ahead of the others. Four natives dashed into the trees, bows at the ready. The remaining canoes held back. I supposed their caution came naturally to them, but I also knew that we were safe here. We had not seen a single sign of an intruder anywhere close by. My own suspicion was that the Santa Sofia was regarded as a ghost ship, and that fear of angry spirits would be enough to keep any hostile neighbours at bay. It would also explain why the gold, all but lying out in the open, had been left untouched.

A whistle from the trees told us all was well. The sisters’ boat came close to the bank before the attendant girls helped the royal women ashore.

Yaima’s effort to maintain her composure was of no avail. She ran up and threw her arms about us. Atiena quietly beckoned Marianna and me aside. “We ask a favour,” she said, pointing at the six pretty girls, and then at the members of my crew who were standing about. “We need fresh blood. Your men – they make father?”

For a moment, I was puzzled. Then I laughed. “Oh, I think we may find a few suitable volunteers.”

I left it to Davy to sort out who the lucky studs would be. He could include himself if he wished, and I saw by the way he looked at the one particular girl, and the way she returned his look, that he’d already decided, for himself at least.

I told him to wait, however, until we had left for the shrine and were out of sight of the ships. The last thing I needed was a riot on my hands if word got around there were willing young maidens to be had.

“And check the men for the pox first,” I said.

Then I turned back to Atiena and Yaima. “Did you know that Sister Caterina’s shrine still exists?”

Atiena staggered back a step, and her dusky face went quite pale. I put forth a hand to steady her.

“Come, we will show you,” I said once she had regained her composure.

It was a fairly large cave with a stone wall built across the front. More stone walls divided the interior, which was also choked with shrubs and vines.

“Be ready for a surprise,” I warned, before lighting the two torches we carried. The flames revealed a number of rough, faded paintings on wooden panels that hung on the walls, or leaned against them. Most were depictions of a young naked girl alone, but one showed an older lady kneeling between the girl’s legs, clearly pleasuring the girl with her mouth.

Atiena knelt and began her chanting. Yaima leaned over the crude altar, her arms stretched across it as she wept. Then she straightened up, dropping her robe to the dirt floor as she turned. Lifting the pouch from around her neck, she beckoned Atiena to her. She touched the liquid to each of their lips before slipping Atiena’s robe from her shoulders. The look on the older woman’s face was one of awe and joy as their bodies came together. We quietly withdrew, leaving them to their ritual lovemaking. Marianna dearly wanted to stay and witness the act, especially as the two had seemed oblivious of our presence. I had to drag her away.

She looked about outside the shrine. “I don’t see any of the men,” she said. “There were twelve of them. You don’t suppose…?”

(Davy later told me, “Well, it seems them girls watched us drawin’ straws. Then one comes over and points at all of us an’ then she points at the girls. She goes over to Jed, grabs ’is hand and drags ’im to stand next to me. She was the one I likes, see. Then they’s all takes two men each off to the trees.”)

Atiena and Yaima eventually emerged from the shrine. Where they had previously been overwhelmed, they now seemed radiantly happy.

Atiena came and took my hands. “We have much to thank you for. Rescuing and returning our people… especially Yaima. Then finding the Shrine of Sofia. Now you will block the way so that no others may find us again. What can we do in return?”

“We need nothing from you,” I answered. “We have gained friends even though we will likely never see you again. We have recovered much gold from the ship. That’s sufficient.”

But Marianna gave me a nudge.

“What is it, love?” I asked her.

She pointed at the string around Yaima’s neck. “Some of that would be nice.”

Atiena spoke to the six girls, who were now waiting close by. They burst into fits of giggles and dashed off into the trees.

“You must dry the leaves they will bring, then they will last for a very long time,” Atiena said. “You add a small bit to cold water, soak half day. Then boil, a short time. The water will last many days … one season to the next.” She took hold of our hands before continuing. “Use with care, not too much, not too often. Or you go mad.”

The girls, still giggling, returned with armfuls of leaves. “Enough for many years,” Yaima told us through Atiena. “And the other bay we stopped in, can get more there. Just to be careful, not good peoples in forest.”

***

The natives were massed on the beach as we departed, waving right up to the moment we disappeared into the channel.

The flag waving at the masthead told me all was clear. There were no sails to be seen. Nateby was already on the rocks at the base of the cliff. “Light your fuses, guns!” I called. “Then back to the boat as quick as you can.”

He actually had to light only one, which then split into five separate fuse lines. A brief hiss, and then I could see the smoke from all fuses rapidly climbing higher. The gunner scrambled back and climbed into the cutter.

“Pull,” Davy shouted, “like yer life depends on it!”

As soon as we were at what I thought to be a safe enough distance, I turned the cutter about so as we would be bows-on to the wave I was sure was coming. We had barely completed the turn when the first charge blew. There was a good, loud explosion but only a few flying rocks.

The next four all went in rapid succession and this time, half of the cliff seemed to jump into the air. Giant boulders cascaded down. Bugger. I thought. Too much.

Then the wave came rolling towards us. Davy timed it well, waiting just long enough. “Pull with all you’s got, boys!” The bows rose high, twisting sideways, threatening to capsize us. Then the oars bit, the cutter straightened and surged up the mountain of water.

We waited for the dust to clear enough to see that no boat, never mind a ship, would ever go through there again. Then we rowed in closer until, with some relief, I could see the dusty water swirling out from between the rocks in quite a strong current. The river still flowed freely.

“Take us back, bosun,” I called to Davy.

We hadn’t got very far when we heard the faint cheers. There, several hundred feet along the cliff, we could see them waving. The men were doing a native dance. They had made the climb to the top to see us off.

We hoisted full sail and resumed our southerly course. We needed to be away as quickly as possible lest the explosion attract unwanted visitors.

***

It was a couple of days later when I said to the first mate, “That looks like fresh, muddy water to me, and the coast has suddenly curved to the west. I thought it should still be going south.”

Davy came running in answer to my call. “You said you’ve been this way before,” I said. “Do you know what’s happening here?”

“I thinks this ’ere’s that big river that goes a long ways inland.” He told me.

“But why can’t we see the far bank if it’s a river mouth?”

“Like as not it’s more an’ a hundred miles wide. This ’ere’s that Amazonia thing.”

We continued south, the water growing even muddier. Then the shout came from high above. “On deck, sail two points to starboard!” Even as I was reaching for my spyglass, he shouted again, “Four lots of sail, comin’ fast!”

“Clear for action, and fire off a charge to warn Jensen in case he hasn’t seen them.”

Through the glass, I saw a small flotilla consisting of a large frigate and three smaller ships. The frigate hoisted its colours, and I could just make out what appeared to be a dancing figure on a black flag.

“Hoist Siren’s black colours,” I called. I knew there was no point in running. The wind was foul for us but not the flotilla, and they were in the out-flowing current. If we tacked, we’d lose too much time and they’d be on top of us.

Now that I could see the flag better, I knew who must be commanding the vessel. I’d never seen these particular colours, but I had heard of them. They belonged to Bartholomew Roberts. The flag bore a portrait of the man himself holding a flaming sword and standing upon two skulls, one labelled ABH (“A Barbadian’s Head”) and the other AMH (“A Martinican’s Head”). Roberts had devised it after swearing revenge on Barbados and Martinique for conspiring to trap him. A number of his men had been killed, although he had made good his own escape.

“Don’t have the guns run out, but keep them ready to go at my command,” I told Halcombe. “They haven’t run any of theirs out.”

The four ships reduced sail, and I gave orders for our two vessels to do the same. I watched as the frigate tacked to come abreast of us. I remembered it was named the Royal Fortune.

As soon as we were within hailing distance, a voice boomed through a trumpet.

“So, you’re the famous Captain Bren. A pleasure to meet you at last, Ma’am. Bartholomew Roberts at your service.”

“The pleasure is mine, Sir. I have heard much of your success, I believe there’s quite a penny on your head. Would we visit, or do we keep shouting?”

He turned and spoke to one of his officers before turning back. “You would do me an honour were you to invite me aboard the Siren, Captain.”

Roberts was an imposing character. His rugged good looks were spoiled only by a ridiculously large moustache. His bow was exaggerated, but in no way mocking. I gathered he intended it to be expressive. He turned to face Marianna. “And who is this startlingly beautiful woman, if I may be so bold as to enquire? Spanish, I feel?”

“May I introduce my partner, the Doña Marianna,” I answered. “And yes, Spanish by birth.”

“Indeed, I do believe I had heard something to that effect.” His eyes sparkled before he now gave Marianna the same bow. “Encantada, mi señora.”

I knew Enofe would have everything prepared by the time we reached my cabin. Bart, as he insisted on being called, asked if we had any good claret. He said he hadn’t had a decent glass for ages.

When had taken a sip from the glass that Enofe had poured, he raised an eyebrow. “Good Lord, this is remarkable! An absolute delight.”

He asked, in reference to my earlier comment, “Did you not know the same price is on your head as on my own? Five-hundred pounds!”

It was a staggering amount – more than twenty years of wages to most labourers. Bart went on to tell us how many pirates had been either killed or caught. Some like Rackham and Vane were awaiting trial.

That made me sit up. “Jack caught? Where is he?”

“They have him in Port Royal, along with Anne Bonny, Mary Read and Vane. Can’t say I’m sorry about Vane, but it will be sad to see Rackham go. He’s a likeable fellow, if not much of a pirate.”

He went on to say that he was planning on sailing for Africa, as the Caribbean had become too dangerous for his liking. He invited us to join him, seeing as we’d make a formidable force.

“I thank you for your consideration, but no, not for the moment. I fear I have things to sort out. Perhaps later,” I answered.

“Then allow me to offer my advice. Stay away from any British islands, especially those with decent harbours. It is my inclination that our days of pirating in the Caribbean are coming to an end.”

I didn’t try to explain why I couldn’t go with them. After all, I was heading for Jamaica and Port Royal!

We parted with a newly formed friendship. He was delighted with the two bottles of claret I gave him. Enofe had told me we couldn’t spare any more, not of that particular vintage, but he added four of a lesser quality.

Before his departure, Roberts told me of a reasonably well-hidden anchorage just a short distance up the Amazon. “But keep good lookouts posted. The natives in the forest are a nasty lot. We hear they eat their captives.”

***

We found the anchorage in short order. A beautiful spot, even if there were hidden dangers. Night lookouts were set. Mister Halcombe had the watch, and we retired to my cabin. Working his usual magic, Enofe had a superb meal waiting. In barely a couple of weeks, this man had become rich beyond his dreams, yet he remained the perfect steward.

I don’t know whether it was his sense of timing or whether he recognized that look I was giving Marianna, but whatever it was, he discreetly disappeared.

I paused, a glass halfway to my lips. “Fuck, I love you,” I said.

Marianna’s eyes shone back at me. “As I love my Captain. Ever since I knew what love was, it was only for my Bren.”

I knew it was true. Her passion for me was intense. Mine, for her, was perhaps more tender, but no less heated. Our interludes with other women and young girls made no difference to us, so long as we were agreed.

She came to my arms. We kissed for an age, hands roaming, caressing. Her gown slipped from her shoulder, exposing a breast. “Did I ever say?” I murmured. “The most beautiful tits in the whole world.” My lips fell upon a nipple. She gasped, though I had not bitten very hard – just enough to convey my desire.

“For God’s sake, will you take me!” she said. “I need you.”

Suddenly, we were ripping our clothes away, clinging to each other, our mouths rammed together as our hands moved about. We tumbled to the deck, her cunt pressed to my searching fingers. She clawed at my back with one hand, her other digging deep between my arse-cheeks. She pulled me to her more intently than I ever remembered. Then her hand found my pussy. No words were exchanged. We simply knew. We turned about, like ships in the wind, bow to stern, her mouth to my cunt, mine to hers. We sucked and teased. The Goddess Sofia urged us on, though we had no need of her magic liquor. Our fingers were added, and we fucked to a climax previously unknown to either of us.

Soon we lay gasping, gazing at one another. Finally, I found words: “What was that?”

Marianna put her fingers to my lips. “Atiena and Yaima have shown us the way. Now we know true sisterly love.”

On to Chapter Four!