Pirates of the Storm (Stranded In Time Book 1) (16 page)

Harrison turned his attention to
Graves and Pike, “Gentlemen, can ye continue?” “Aye,” Both men
muttered, still stinging from their wounds. “Good. And ye, Mr.
Greene?”

“I’m ready.”

“Fight!” Jeff raised his practice
sword and quickly advanced on Pike who was the closest to him. As
he and Pike’s sticks collided in front of them, Jeff could hear
Graves’ footsteps fast approaching him from behind. Jeff shoved
Pike backwards as he spun around to meet Graves’ attack. Graves had
his sword overhead for a downward slice, but Jeff simply
side-stepped as he struck his practice sword across Graves’
abdomen. Graves’ momentum carried him forward and he collided with
Pike. Before the two men could untangle themselves, Jeff moved
forward and knocked Pike’s stick from his hand and held the end of
his own to Pike’s throat. Just then, a firm blow from Harrison’s
stick slapped against Jeff’s buttocks.

“Hold!” Harrison yelled out, standing
behind Jeff. Jeff rubbed his stinging buttocks as he glared at
Harrison.

“What the hell was that?”

“I told ye, Mr. Greene, this be an
unfair fight! I also told ye not to let yer guard down until I
called the contest over. Always stay sharp to what be happenin’
around ye.” Jeff was still angry, but he realized that Harrison had
just taught him a very valuable lesson. “Ye should be proud, Mr.
Greene. Ye have done well. I fer one be proud to fight at yer
side!”

“Aye,” Graves nodded in
agreement.

“As be I,” Pike
acknowledged.

Jeff’s training continued for the next
few hours with various other crewmen and in various scenarios. By
the time the sun was beginning to set, he was thoroughly exhausted
and was bruised, and sore to the point he could barely move. “Ye
have learned well, Mr. Greene!” Harrison said, “Would ye like some
more o’ me salve to soothe yer pains?”

Jeff thought about it for a moment,
weighing the smell to pain relief ratio the salve presented. But he
realized that if he was to be able to even move, let alone fight if
need be anytime in the next week, he’d better take every advantage
available. “Yes, Mr. Harrison, I would appreciate your
salve.”

Harrison had anticipated this response
and handed Jeff the canister. “Use what ye need and return the rest
to me on the morrow.”

“Thank you,” Jeff replied, steeling
himself for the smell as he pulled off the lid.

“We’ll continue yer practice at dawn,”
Harrison said as he turned to depart. The pungent odor of the salve
was already making Jeff slightly nauseous, but he dipped his hand
in the canister and began smearing it on his bruised and swollen
body. Once again, the salve started working its magic and Jeff’s
pain started to fade. He closed up the canister and stowed it
beneath his bunk before heading to the galley for some
food.

“No!” yelled Jenny before he even made
it through the galley door. “Be off with you and your foul stench!
I shall bring you your dinner out on deck. Or, better yet, I’ll
find someone else to bring it to you. Begone!” Jeff could tell she
was not joking, so he quickly turned around and headed back out on
deck.

A short time later, Harrison delivered
a bowl of food and a coconut to Jeff along with a message. “Mr.
Robinson wished me to tell ye that ye be not welcome in the galley
nor elsewise in his presence whilst wearing me salve.”

“I guessed that,” Jeff
nodded.

“Eat well, Mr. Greene, ye be needin’
yer strength fer the morrow,” Harrison said as he turned and walked
away.

Jeff had not realized how hungry he
was until he took the first bite of food. Though the smell of the
salve was not exactly beneficial to his appetite, the exertion of
the day combined with the tastiness of Jenny’s meal had him gulping
down his dinner. By the time he finished eating, the salve had
taken full effect and Jeff was amazed by the fact that not only was
the pain and soreness mostly gone, but even the bruises and
swelling had gone down significantly. If the opportunity presented
itself, he would have to find out what the ingredients of the salve
were. If he could figure out a way to overcome the odor issue, he
realized he could make a fortune on the stuff if he ever made it
back home.

Jeff laid back on the deck and looked
up at the sky. It was now getting dark and the stars were beginning
to come out. The idea of going home was starting to feel like a
pipe dream. When he decided to go along with Coxen and his crew,
his initial thinking was that he’d have a better chance of finding
the right kind of storm to transport him back to his time. But the
words of the old men back in Port Royal were starting to sink in.
The chances of him ever getting home were slim at best. All he
could do is try to make the best life possible here in this time
and hope that maybe he’d get lucky someday and find a
way…

Splash! His thoughts were rudely
interrupted as the salt water hit him full in the face. Jeff sat
up, sputtering and wiping the stinging water from his eyes. Splash!
He was hit again, as Jenny emptied the second bucket of water on
him. “What the hell!” he cried out. Jenny laughed, “Just making you
fit for company, Mr. Greene. I had to do something to rid you of
that horrid stench!” Jenny took a long deep breath through her
nose. “Better, but I think another couple of buckets are in order…”
“Wait, don’t bother. I’ve got a better idea,” Jeff said, scrambling
to his feet. He walked around the deck with Jenny following him at
a distance with some curiosity.

Finally, he found what he was looking
for, a coil of rope. He walked over to the rail where the cargo net
hung and dropped the end of the rope over the side to get the right
length before pulling it back up. He then tied one end of the rope
to the rail and tied the other end around his chest. He climbed
down the cargo net and eased into the water. The ship was moving at
a pretty good speed, and as his body entered the water, he was
immediately being dragged alongside. He was careful to keep hold of
the rope with one hand so that it did not slide off and he grasped
the end of the cargo net with his other hand to keep from getting
banged against the hull. Jenny peered over the rail at him and
shouted down, “Looks like fun. I shall have to try that sometime!”
Jeff opened his mouth to reply, just as the ship broke a wave and
he got a big gulp of seawater. He choked as he pulled himself back
on the cargo net. He held himself in place at the bottom of the net
until the coughing subsided and then climbed back over the rail.
Jenny stepped up and took a big sniff of him. “Much better! You
have my permission to sleep in your bunk tonight.”

“Thank… you,” Jeff replied, still
coughing and gasping slightly.

“But now you are all wet, Mr. Greene.
You should change out of those wet clothes. Don’t want to sleep in
them or you’ll get the rot.” Jenny said, as she helped Jeff remove
the rope from around his chest. “I believe you left the spare
clothes you bought in Port Royal down in the cargo hold when we
were stocking the ship. I can show you right where they are if you
don’t recall,” she said with a wink.

“That would be very helpful. Thank you
Mr. Robinson,” Jeff replied just in case any of the other crew
members were paying attention, although from the looks of things
they were all more interested in drinking their rum or in the games
of chance taking place at the far end of the deck.

Jenny led him down to the cargo hold.
As they entered, she poked her head back out in the passageway to
see if anyone was around. “In the back there, Mr. Greene. Behind
those crates.” As it turned out, Jeff had actually left his clothes
at the back of the cargo hold, but he knew very well that was not
the reason Jenny was directing him there. A few rats squeaked and
scuttled away as the pair made their way through the crates and
sacks of cargo and supplies to a makeshift bed of empty sacks that
Jenny had arranged previously for just such an
opportunity.

“Did you do this?” Jeff asked,
gesturing at the sacks.

“I thought it might make things more
comfortable. Burlap is not silk, but it is better than the hard
floor.”

“Good thinking,” Jeff smiled, as he
slid off his shirt.

“I thought so,” she replied softly as
she untied her rope belt, slid her pants down her legs and stepped
out of them.

The two enjoyed each other’s bodies
for quite some time before the roughness of the burlap bedding left
them somewhere between pleasure and pain. “I can’t do this anymore,
my knees are on fire!” Jeff whispered.

“Thank God!” Jenny whispered back, “I
think the curve of my arse is getting ground away!”

“Can’t have that. It’s too lovely an
arse,” Jeff said as he rolled off of her.

Jenny turned on her side and kissed
him. “We should probably get dressed and get to our bunks,” she
said with a hint of disappointment, “Perhaps we can do this again
after Diento Malo?”

“I would like that very much. But
maybe we can figure out something better than burlap to lie on,”
Jeff smiled, “It seems that there’s always some pain mixed with the
pleasure when I’m with you.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t seem to be
putting you off,” she said as she slid on her shirt and adjusted
her chest wrap.

“Definitely not,” Jeff agreed, as he
located his stack of new clothes and pulled out a pair of pants.
“I’m just glad there were no crabs this time!”

The two finished dressing and they
made sure Jenny’s disguise was still passable before she slipped
out of the cargo hold and made her way to her bunk. Jeff waited a
few minutes before departing the hold and then he too slipped into
his bunk. Jenny was already sleeping soundly and Jeff laughed to
himself, “Just like a man – right after sex, he falls asleep!”
Soon, he too was drifting off into a deep sleep.

The next day began pretty much as the
day before. Harrison was waiting for Jeff on deck at sunrise and
the next few hours were filled with hard training and pain. But the
previous day’s lessons had paid off and early in the day Jeff was
already besting most of his sparring partners, even when they came
in groups of twos and threes. Harrison was quite pleased with his
progress and by early afternoon, Jeff was actually as much an
instructor for the other men as he was a trainee himself. Captain
Coxen too had taken notice of Jeff’s progress and he called Jeff up
to the helm to congratulate him. “You have done well, Mr. Greene.
Far better in fact than I had hoped.”

“Thank you sir!” Jeff
smiled.

The Captain’s expression turned
serious, “The question is, do you believe you can take a man’s life
if you must?”

Jeff thought for a moment, before
nodding solemnly, “Yes, Captain. While it is something I hope to
never do, I believe I can if I must.”

“Good,” Coxen replied, “For I fear
that the time may be coming soon when you shall have to fight for
your life.”

“What do you mean, Captain?” Jeff
asked with concern.

“Just a feeling, Mr. Greene. But I
have learned to trust my feelings. Be on your guard.”

“I will,” Jeff
acknowledged.

“Now, we shall be making anchorage off
Diente Malo by sundown and the raid will proceed when darkness will
cover our approach. You, Robinson, Harrison, the two Stevens, and
Graves shall stand watch on the ship with Mr. Crabtree in command
while the rest of the crew accompanies me on the raid. Look alive
and be ready for anything.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now, be off with you. You should get
something to eat.”

“Yes, Captain,” Jeff replied as he
headed back down to the main deck.

Jeff headed down to the galley.
Harrison and several others were crowded around the table and Jenny
was busy serving up plates of food. She looked up and gave him a
quick smile as she handed him a plate. Harrison spoke up between
gulps of food, “Eat quickly, Mr. Greene, there be still much to do
before we reach Diente Malo.” Jeff didn’t really need to be
prodded. The intense exercise had left him very hungry and as
usual, Jenny’s food was quite tasty. Harrison finished his meal and
announced to no one in particular, “I’ll await ye on deck.” Several
other men finished up at the table just ahead of Jeff and they
filed out of the galley. Jeff swallowed his last bite, winked at
Jenny and made his way back out on deck.

As he had promised, Harrison was there
waiting for him, and he tossed Jeff his practice sword. For the
next few hours, Harrison ran Jeff and several other crew members
through sword fighting drills. Jeff was getting tired, but he
wasn’t nearly as battered by the day’s practice as he was the day
before. He was now skilled enough that he rarely took a strike to
his body at all, and when he did, it was usually a glancing blow at
worst. Harrison finally called an end to the sword drills and
switched to shooting practice. Jeff was not nearly as effective
with a flintlock as he now was with his sword, but based on the
accuracy of most of the men, he realized that the guns of this era
were not nearly as reliable as a sword anyway. Although Harrison
was a pretty good shot, there were times when even his shots missed
their mark by quite a distance. The pistols were actually only good
for shots of about 10 to 15 feet at the most. The rifles were
better, but even then, Harrison had advised to hold fire until the
target was within 50 feet, and the closer the better.