Deegan never took a greater share than the rest, as on the island each of the crewmembers was equal.
It was only on the schooner that Deegan was their undisputed leader, though the crew referred to him as either Captain or Deegan on land and still tended to ask his advice or follow his suggestions.
The very qualities that had earned him the respect at sea from the men were also valued in this exiled existence.
Deegan shrewdly decided to let the others dicker over the rods, and he focused on the large box of hooks and weighted sinkers.
Naturally, they had collected many such boxes from their prey over their marauding travels, but this one contained a wealth of unusual gear with extra line made out of an even stranger hemp than they had collected on their previous travels.
It was thin, clear and strong, and there seemed to be an endless length wrapped onto the spindles.
Deegan glanced at Johnny, and the Quartermaster winked at him.
While the other five pirates pawed over the stash, the two men walked out of the circle a short distance.
The two of them had managed to cunningly outbid for fishing poles made of long lasting woods on previous excursions, and had only to replace the guides a few times with leather hoops they were used to making.
“You’re eyeing the box?” Johnny queried.
“We think alike, Johnny.
Too many years together, I suspect.
We’ll have to pretend to be giving in on those shiny poles.
What else should we barter for?”
The silent agreement was made that they would each pretend to bemoan losing the fishing rods and settling for other treasures, which they agreed to share.
Neither Deegan nor Johnny desired a bidding war against each other, which would end up costing them each more of the plunder, though undoubtedly it would please the rest of the crew.
In the future, when the others needed a sinker or hook when their own boxes were empty, it would require trading other booty or use of their coveted poles for a time to Deegan and Johnny.
“I expect the clothing and food will be divided as we’ve done in the past.”
Johnny stared over at the pile and continued, “I’m curious for that chest we grabbed from those men and cannot open.
What say you, Captain?”
“I like it.
It will be the second mystery of this trip,” Deegan agreed.
Johnny looked down and drew in the sand with his foot.
“How is the girl, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Deegan knew the crew was still nervous that Clarette meant to perform something even more cruel than the exile.
“Her magic is gone, Johnny.
On one occasion, there was the same flash in her eyes, but she has forgotten the words.
I am well into training her, so if Clarette truly returns through the girl, she will be broken to my word.”
“She has not told you why she has returned?” Johnny pressed.
The pirates were a superstitious lot, and had known about the magic of the mysterious dark women from Africa on Haiti.
It was one of the reasons Deegan had never pursued the slave ships, and his crew was grateful to have such a wise Captain.
None of them blamed him for not knowing Clarette had learned their secrets.
“I think this woman is unaware of Clarette’s existence.
Even through her fear, her denials are too consistent and my responses confuse her.
I am keeping her gagged until she agrees to tell me.
Maybe it will force the little witch’s hand.”
Deegan shrugged, and the two men looked up to see the others had formed their strategy.
The dickering, drawn out far longer than necessary with only the treasures of the two small boats, went on for two hours.
There was even a roll of the dice over a tin of beets versus a tin of green beans.
They never cleared the cold boxes on the ships because the meat or belongings spoiled quickly on the island, but the tins of vegetables that replaced the fresh loose fair half a century ago kept the food for years.
With no vegetables grown on the island, the watered down versions were still a favorite delicacy.
These new tins even had release mechanisms on top that could be used later for fishing rod eyes, and the tin tops could be shaped into hooks… still, Deegan and Johnny figured the men would have to come to their box of supplies within only a few years.
Deegan and Johnny won their chest and fishing box without giving up too much, as the rest of the crew did not want to take chances with the rods that lay at the end of their land markers.
The pirates wrapped their portions of the food into the cloth they had garnered, along with an assortment of matches, candles and miscellaneous trinkets to go with flatware and dishes.
These were all laid out on the sand within the sections denoting their individual estates.
The pirates spent the rest of the morning taking things back to their homes until the last items on the sand were the chest and the fishing box, which Johnny helped carry back to Deegan’s cave.
Monique had watched him traveling back and forth all morning with different piles of belongings from the boats.
Her arms were aching and she had cried herself out, but she stared hopefully each time she heard him come back to the clearing, willing him to let her down.
He never even looked in her direction.
At last, she heard him approaching with another man, and they laid a chest down by the fire pit.
“I guess we will see what chance we took,” Johnny laughed nervously.
For all the men knew, the chest might contain nothing more than clothing or blankets.
Though, it
was
locked.
The two men pried at the hinges with their heavy knives, Johnny banged on the lock hasp with a rock until his knuckles were bleeding, and Deegan resorted to retrieving a heavy boarding axe.
The weapon had not been used other than for clearing land since they had landed on the island.
The men discussed the assault and decided Deegan, whose size and strength would be more accurate, should strike close to the hasp and they would take their chances that whatever was inside would not be shattered.
Deegan raised the monstrous weapon over his head and brought it down accurately, still splintering a good bit of the front of the chest, but the lock sprung free and flew towards the cave.
Deegan dropped the axe and the two men knelt and opened the lid.
They were speechless for a few moments, and then Deegan said, “You can have the fishing box if you want it, Johnny.”
Michael Dalton and his fishing buddies were good guy lawyers from Florida.
They had made a name for themselves sticking up for women in what had begun as divorce cases, and ended up specializing the last decade in the more profitable cases of sexual harassment litigation.
They had long standing marriages with wonderful women who were very proud of their husbands’ dedication to such worthy causes… which made it awkward for the men to discuss their slightly scandalous sexual desires.
Four times a year, the partners would stock their boat and head to the party islands of the Caribbean to find some fun loving girls.
They enjoyed two weeks of sailing and fishing… and using their unusual toys far out on the water where the girls’ screams could not be heard.
Actually, the girls were never heard from again, because the lawyers were very familiar with the legal ramifications of their actions.
They kept their toys securely locked on the boat, and more than once the chest had been used by their wives as a side table.
Deegan and Johnny held up the unusual assortment of items that included weighted nipple clamps and chains, whips and crops, colorful candles, a multitude of gags, and rubbery renditions of different sized cocks that would prove much less damaging then a belaying pin.
There were blindfolds and head masks, arm bindings and harnesses… the deeper they dug into the chest, the more provocative the toys they discovered.
They decided to try to divide the unusual plunder, and began by choosing the items that intrigued them the most.
Johnny closed his eyes occasionally, picturing Thelma’s red hair and voluptuous body with different devices of torture attached.
The last of the chest was handed out, and Johnny and Deegan shook hands on the most profitable trip they could remember, between the women, the rum and the chest.
Deegan wrapped his new treasures in a blanket and stashed them away in the cave to refer to later.
He was already late catching dinner, and did not want to have to get by on another meal of fruit.
He walked over to the tree where the girl was wobbling, straining more pressure on her arms after the hours of hanging than on her legs.
He loosened the rope from the cleat on the tree and she sprawled on the sand.
Deegan removed the hook from the wrist cuffs and held her up.
It took a moment for Monique to focus her eyes, and their tormented depths gazed into the pirate’s dark stare.
“I’m going to take the kerchief off your mouth so you can drink.
If you stay quiet, perhaps I’ll be persuaded to leave it off.”
Monique nodded stiffly and licked her dry lips when the cloth was removed.
She was relieved when he also unbound her hands.
He pointed to the pond and she stumbled over.
The water felt cool and she waded in and sat down, and lifted handfuls of liquid to her parched throat.
Deegan watched from the shore as she gulped down water and splashed some onto herself to cool down.
The water sparkled like diamonds on her skin, and his eyes focused on a droplet perched precariously on the end of one of her nipples.
It remained there, never falling, and his eyes wandered up to the girl’s face.
She was gazing at the rainbow made from the waterfall, lost in thought with an eerily peaceful expression.
“Come,” Deegan ordered, and he saw the expansion of her chest as she sighed, finally causing the droplet on her nipple to lose its grip as she rose.
Her face was now impassive, as though disturbingly resigned to his designs for her.
She followed him silently down the path to the lagoon where Deegan’s private beach was blocked from the rest of the shoreline by two fingers of sand that reached out in the shallow water and were covered in tropical growth.
Deegan was slightly worried he had pressed too hard, and that she was shutting down.
Fifty years with Clarette both within in reach and yet unobtainable, was unnerving.
He decided to back off until he discovered whether she was truly at the precipice of shocked silence or once again playing a deceitful game.
He brought her to the shoreline and ordered her to kneel while he grabbed his rod and walked to a shallow pool formed by coral that trapped bait fish when the tide receded.
He scooped a few of the flashing silver treats out with a piece of net he kept in his pocket, and then he stripped off his pants and walked out into the rolling waves.
Monique absently dug trenches beside her thighs, allowing the tide to wash over them and fill them with colorful coquinas.
She studied the myriad of striated colors on the small shells, lost in deep thought.
The pirate was fishing, waist deep in the warm water, and Monique’s eyes followed his strong bronze body as his arm drew back and cast the line.
A thought flashed through her mind, and she pictured herself hanging in front of him, with the rod replaced by a long whip and his form identical, with the same movements of taut muscle when the lash was thrown forward to strike her.
Her bottom lip trembled with fear… not at the thought of her torment, but rather the realization of how aroused the scene made her feel.
Monique finally came to the conclusion that, for whatever reason, she was attracted to the sadistic man.
There was no way for her to deny the fact, because every time he spoke, every time he touched her… every time she thought of him… it resulted in a pulsing, wet response.
After hours of being gagged and bound to a tree, with her arms still feeling wrenched and aching, a part of her wondered both fearfully and with anticipation, what he would do to her next.