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 Five: Daphne Joins the Siren

Marianna, I, and a few others transferred to the Majestic. The Siren would stay out of the harbour but within signal range. I was relieved to see the harbour was clear of other ships, though it quickly became obvious that all was not well. We could see smoke billowing high in several places, and the breeze carried the sound of musket fire.

“Mister Halcombe,” I said, “signal the Siren to follow us after all and call the hands to quarters.”

No sooner had we dropped anchor than a boat left the jetty and headed towards us. I was astonished to see my old friend John Rudge standing in the thwarts.

“My God, I thought that was the Siren astern,” he said directly as he came aboard. “And you, Captain and Marianna, both safe and well after we thought you had perished. A fisherman reported seeing you in battle with the King’s Navy. We’ve heard no more of you since that day and feared for the worst.”

“We are fine, John, but I feel the same cannot be said for here. What is happening?”

“Slave trouble. A few dozen have gone on a rampage here in Road Town. We fear that more might join them. We have been able to hold them back in some places, but I’m not sure we can for much longer.”

“Tell me, John, would we be allowed to land my men? We can assist your small garrison.” He was quick to agree.

We used every ship’s boat plus a few sent out to us. Soon, there were about a hundred heavily armed men gathered on the foreshore. An extremely relieved-looking sergeant and his squad lined up in front of us.

“We have them cornered in one section of the town, but I don’t have sufficient men to attack,” he said. “I believe they may be ready to break out again anytime soon. That’s when others may be persuaded to join them, and then things will really turn nasty.”

I suppose we presented a motley-looking crowd. Pirates haven’t the slightest notion of how to march. But they know how to make a lot of noise.

The shouting and jeering from behind the barricades came to a sudden stop when the slaves saw the mass of muskets and swords pointed at them as we rounded the corner.

Davy rolled the small two-pounder swivel cannon out in front of us. The master gunner had mounted it on a set of wheels. Now he sighted it on the largest barricade, making a great show of loading it and holding a smoking taper above the touch hole.

I called for quiet, waited for thirty seconds, then, “Prepare to fire.” I raised my sword high in the air.

The first musket flew over the barricade and clattered to the ground. Others, together with pistols and swords quickly followed. A couple of shots still came from another barricade. “Resight the gun,” I ordered. “And sergeant, have your men fire a volley at that barricade, but aim high if you please. I’m aiming to frighten them out, not to kill them.”

Twelve muskets make a lot of smoke and noise when fired in unison.

As the smoke cleared, I repeated my previous orders. The gunner began to lower the taper towards the cannon. I thought for a moment that this time we were going to have to fire. But once again, weapons were thrown out.

The sergeant shouted the order, “Present.” Twelve reloaded muskets aimed at the barricade.

“Don’t give the order to fire, Sergeant.”

More weapons were thrown. Then the barricades started to come down before slaves slowly emerged with their hands held high in the air. They were in a pitiful state, most of them underfed and overworked. I turned to the sergeant and John.

“It’s the owners of this lot that want shooting,” I said, “not these poor buggers.”

The sergeant nodded his head, but then said, “I hope they haven’t killed anyone though, or they’ll hang… the lot of them!”

It was a dreadful sight. I could fully understand why there were revolts, and I was developing a deep hatred of slavery.

The rebels were soon rounded up and marched away, the fight completely gone from them. A few, no doubt, had managed to steal away. Some bore wounds, but thankfully, I saw no dead.

“Where can I get horses, John? We must get to the M & B.”

A short while later, my men were all back on board the two ships. Halcombe had thought I might grant them some time ashore by watch. But I thought not, as tensions were still running high. The last thing we needed was any of our lot getting drunk and causing trouble.

I took six men with us who were capable riders. It wasn’t very long before we arrived at the plantation gates – Tortola is not a large island. We were met by Josh and a few others, all brandishing muskets. I saw the relief on Josh’s face when he recognised Marianna and me.

There was a sudden screech, and Daphne, flying through the doors, rushed into Marianna’s waiting arms.

***

A meeting with Josh and John established that, at least for the time being, the trouble was over. John intended to pursue a point of censure with the island’s proprietary council against the two owners of the slaves who had taken part in the revolt, whose barbaric treatment could only lead to further troubles.

Marianna told Josh she was gifting him the plantation, as she was now wealthy enough that she no longer needed it. All that was required was John’s reassurance he could work out an agreement.

Daphne came to see us whilst Marianna was collecting a few more of her things. “I want to come with you,” she said. “It’s driving me mad here. I must get away.”

How would I explain to the men that I was bringing yet another female aboard? Marianna hit on the answer. “They don’t mind Anne being on board. In faith, she’s probably the most dangerous among us. They see her as a true pirate. She doesn’t seem to be getting any better, not as the surgeon thought. Could we not say that Daphne has been engaged to care for her?”

It was a grand idea. Quite what we would do with Daphne later on, I was uncertain, but I supposed we could postpone a decision on the matter.

I was surprised when Josh and his wife seemed happy enough to let her go.

“They have found out about my wanting a woman to love,” Daphne explained. “My mother wants me gone. She do love me, but she don’t want the shame. It’s how they be.”

Thus it was settled. She would come with us.

Back in Road Town, a crowd of citizens gathered to see us off. The elected head of the council proclaimed we were welcome in Tortola, whenever and whatever our circumstances. “And bugger the British!” he added.

We also gained another eleven experienced crewmen, which would ease Jensen’s under-manning problem.

Our story explaining Daphne’s presence raised no comment, although she did get a few whistles. Had she been white, I’m sure, we would have seen her blush. She scampered off with Marianna as fast as possible.

Our carpenter had built a small cabin for Anne. He now added a top bunk for Daphne. It was a tight squeeze, but there was little enough room on the Siren. They would have to manage.

Daphne was shocked at Anne’s appearance. She quickly checked the invalid’s pulse, looking into her eyes and mouth. She seemed to know what she was doing. Then she sniffed and tasted the tonic the surgeon had left. She shook her head. “No good,” she said. She would fetch something better if there were time enough for Davy to take her back to the jetty.

Later, we caught the evening breeze, which was strong enough to put us on a good north-easterly course and give us a wide berth around the most northerly islands.

***

We had been beating slowly north for six days when daybreak revealed a small ship almost on a collision course with us. The entire crew must have been asleep, or drunk, for no alarm was given as the Siren and Majestic came either side of her.

We hoisted our black colours before firing a blank charge. That brought the crew pouring onto the deck. Half a minute later, she hoisted her own colours, a full skeleton on a black flag. Not a flag I knew. One man, obviously the captain, looked about, sizing up his situation. He wisely decided on discretion being the more sensible course.

“Captain Lowther of Happy Delivery.” He wasn’t sure which of our ships to address.

I may not have known of his flag, but I certainly knew of George Lowther, if only by reputation. He was said to be reasonable and fair. It was his first mate, Low, who was nasty business, somewhat akin to Charles Vane, but worse.

I was about to reply when he turned to speak directly to me. “That flag – you’re the Siren, I’m thinkin’. Is it Captain Bren I have the honour of addressing?”

We spoke of a few minor matters before he asked if I were heading up the Carolinas way. In response to my affirmative, he called, “May I suggest, Captain, you might want to reconsider. There is nowhere safe to harbour. The coastal counties have joined forces to clamp down on piracy. At least thirty have been hanged this last six months. We are heading south, for Venezuela.”

“It’s just as bad in the Caribbean,” I warned him. “Take a wide berth before you cut to the mainland.”

When he had gone on his way, I summoned Jensen.

“We have a problem, Tom,” I said. “We have to keep out of sight for three months. North, it seems, is now out of the question.”

“Could we not return to the safe anchorage we used on the Amazon river? No one is likely to stumble across us there.”

“We could, but it will be a long and tedious wait for the men. Perhaps I will have to ask them. Return to Majestic and bring her as close as you can, the sea is flat enough. I would prefer all the men hear what I have to say at the same time.”

When the crews were gathered on deck, I told them of the dangers we faced both north and south. I reminded them of the possibility of a pardon that might be coming our way, which would allow them, legally, to take what was owed them and do as they wished.

“I want to take us back to the Amazon and hide away for three months. It will be a difficult time for us all, but we will be safe. The potential reward is huge. Will you take ten minutes to discuss and decide?”

They took barely five. It was nearly unanimous. South we would go.

*** 

We found a corner of the bay that we hadn’t observed on our previous excursion. It seemed ideal. Here, the water was clear of the mud from the Amazon, and neither was it salt.

For the moment, though, each ship dropped only one anchor. I sent out four patrols, each with six well-armed men who were to scour the area to at least a two-mile distance to ensure we were alone. Certainly, the beach showed no signs of anyone having been there for a considerable time.

One patrol reported a native village three miles to the west, close to the main channel of the river. It was fortunate Taylor had led this patrol, as, being a calm and deliberative sort, he was apt to observe strangers before drawing his sword. He told me the villagers were not the least warlike, as Roberts had suggested they were. They were mainly fishermen, but they knew the forest well. They spoke some Portuguese and a little Spanish. A village elder had told Taylor we were welcome in the bay and the surrounding forest, but we were not to come to their village.

He then went a bit shy on me. “What is it, Taylor? Is there something wrong?” I asked him.

“Not so as you’d say, Cap’ain. The old’un said that some of their girls might want to visit with the men, if you knows what I mean. But not the men to go there. Er… there were some good lookers an’ all.”

I decided we were safe enough here. I would have a few shelters built among the trees. It would be better than being confined to the ship the whole time, though I did insist that there be one watch on board at all times.

It appeared Daphne’s medicine was indeed more effective than the Navy doctor’s. Anne seemed to be improving, though she remained weak. I had a small hut built for her, reasoning the fresh air under the trees might help.

“Have you seen how Daphne is with Anne?” Marianna asked me one sultry evening. “She’s become most possessive. I don’t believe Anne has noticed yet.”

“Yes, I have seen, and I think you’re wrong about Anne. I saw her reach for Daphne’s hand and hold it as she went into a sleep. I think we made a good choice, letting Daphne come along.”

***

Daphne awoke with a start. She ached from having fallen asleep in the chair alongside her patient’s cot. She let go of Anne’s hand to rub her neck and have a good stretch. Glancing down, she found Anne staring at her. 

Anne had hardly ever spoken, nor did she now. Instead, she reached out with a trembling hand to Daphne’s cheek, touching it briefly. Then she struggled to move her body to one side of the cot. 

“You wish me to lie with you, yes?” Daphne asked.

Lifting her hand again, Anne gave the merest nod.

Daphne took the offered hand. “I been waiting for you to ask.” 

Daphne lay down beside Anne and snuggled herself close. Anne had closed her eyes, but there was a weak smile on her face. Daphne summoned her courage, then leaned closer to press her lips to Anne’s cheek. Anne gave Daphne’s hand a slight squeeze before they both went to sleep.

The next morning Daphne was up early heating water, for she intended to give Anne a proper wash. A sound from the hut made her rush inside. Anne was trying to prop herself up in the cot. It was the first time she had attempted to sit up.

“Good morning, Miss,”’ Daphne said. “You seem stronger today. Shall I fetch you some water?” 

Parting her lips, Anne struggled a moment, then managed to ask, “Is there any coffee?”

Daphne gasped and seized Anne’s hand. “I like how you talk,” she said. “It sound strange, but I do like.”

“’Tis Irish,” Anne said, with a rare smile. “You kissed me goodnight; would you kiss me good morning and stop yer jabbering?”

This time, Daphne leaned in and gave Anne a proper kiss, soft and protracted. When she pulled back, Anne was once again staring at her. “You and me girlie, are we gonna fuck when I have the strength?”

Daphne clapped her hands. “Oh, yes, Miss Anne, we fuck for sure.”

“And you’re not a shy one. We’re gonna do just fine, I can feel it. Now, about that coffee?”

“I fetch. Then I give you a proper wash.”

The brew revived Anne’s spirits and gave her strength enough to sit up. Daphne spread towels on the bed and removed her charge’s soiled gown, pleased to see the unmistakable sign of convalescence – a bit more weight here and there. Anne never took her eyes off the girl’s face, probing the desire in her eyes. For the first time in her life, she felt tenderness and realised she didn’t just want to fuck this pretty black girl, she wanted to love her. What’s more, she wanted her love in return. It was an astonishing revelation. Even in her poorly condition, she felt the familiar stirrings as Daphne washed her body. Her nipples stiffened under the girl’s touch.

“Are you going to wash me, or rub my tits away?” she asked.

“Sorry,” Daphne replied, “but they so nice.” With that, she lowered her head and took a nipple into her mouth. Her tongue circled the hard tip, then she sucked. Glancing up, she saw Anne’s eyes were closed. The look of pleasure encouraged her.

With a sigh, she lifted her head. “I must behave and let you rest while I wash.”

She bathed Anne from top to tail before easing her legs a little wider. She paused for a moment, then fetched her barbering kit. This was a task she was well familiar with. Anne’s unruly thatch was quickly tamed, and Daphne’s expert razor made short work of what remained, leaving just a tidy stripe. 

Daphne sat back and admired her artistry. “There. Your pretty pussy is now to be seen. Now I finish your wash.”

“You are very skilled at that,” Anne said. 

Daphne realised that, of course, Anne knew almost nothing about her. “I worked for Doña Marianna. I have done it many times. I am no longer her maid. It was my choice to come and look after you.”

By now, Daphne was gently sponging Anne’s pussy. She hesitated when she saw the clit, not daring to touch it until Anne whispered, “Please.”

Her resolve instantly dissipated. She savoured the warmth as she bent low to draw the swelling nub between her lips, her heart pounding all the while. At least, she had at last found someone who might become hers alone. She sucked and teased more insistently, and Anne raised a soft moan. Now Daphne would use all her skills. She would make this woman hers.

Gently, she eased two fingers into Anne’s cunt, a slow, rhythmic pumping as her tongue worked its magic. She didn’t want to prolong Anne’s arousal, though. The woman wasn’t yet strong enough. She needn’t have worried, for Anne, deprived of lustful delights for an age, could not hold out. A hand fluttering at Daphne’s cheek, a whispered “Fuck!” – and she was coming.

Daphne watched as Anne relaxed. The woman’s eyes remained closed, and within seconds she was asleep. A final gentle wipe with the sponge, and Daphne pulled the light sheet up to cover her. Outside, she picked a forest blossom, fetching it back to lay it on the pillow beside her lover’s head.

***

The weeks slipped by without incident. The men seemed remarkably at ease with their situation, and the food was good. The natives had shown them how to catch wild boar, which they roasted over an open fire. They built more permanent huts, although no one was quite sure why. Many learned to swim, something that very few seamen were actually capable of. Others were happy to sit on a rock, fishing and smoking a pipe of the natives’ outstanding tobacco.

An ancient tribeswoman came to see Anne. With much foul-smelling smoke, potions and incantations, she worked her own sort of magic. No doubt it was the potions, rather than her guttural chanting, but Anne’s health improved rapidly. The first time she made an appearance outside her hut, there were shouts and cheers from the men present. She gave them the finger, and the cheering redoubled. Where once she would have scowled, now she smiled. Anne was back from the dead, yet changed.

A few nights later, as we sat around  fire on the beach, she told the story of her and Rackham’s capture.

“We were at Jamaica, anchored at Bry Harbour. There weren’t many on board that night. Them that was, was stone-drunk. They been out on the town with a gang of turtle fishermen and some other mates. Then Jonathan Barnet heard tell we was there and found us.

“He attacked with cannon first. Jack cut the anchor cable and tried to run, but it was no bloody good. The crew were too drunk to man the ropes, and Barnet boarded us in short order. Those cowardly drunks had gone and hid below. What the fuck good they thought that would do, fuck only knows.”

She paused for a moment’s reflection. “There was only three of us sober – me, Noah and Mary. We screamed at the curs to come up and help us fight, but they stayed put, shiverin’, no doubt. We fought alone. Three against twenty was hopeless, and we was soon done for.

“We were taken to Port Royal. I only saw Jack the once, the day they took him out to hang. I told him blunt, ‘If you’d fought like a man, you wouldn’t be hanging like a dog.’”

She turned to face me. “You, Cap’n, you told him to stay away from Jamaica. He didn’t listen, and now they’s all dead.” She looked at Daphne, sitting close by her side, “All except me. You lot rescued me. This girl saved me.”

There was silence. We had all liked Calico Jack, but the manner of his capture was a shock. Most would have expected better of him.

Anne got to her feet. “I’m feelin’ spent. You want to help me, sweet girlie?”

Some of us gave a knowing look, but none spoke. The men were now accustomed to seeing women together. Besides, few dared comment within the hearing of Anne Bonny.

***

At last, our exile was over. It was time to sail for Bermuda and to discover where our future lay.

We had lost only two men, lured away by native girls. Even the thought of the gold they were giving up didn’t tempt them. When I saw the girls, I understood. They were quite beautiful. And as Davy said, such men would likely have drunk themselves to death.

We left our sanctuary and eased slowly into the Amazon. The lookouts reported no sails in sight. The current further from the shore assisted the light wind in whisking us out to sea.

Getting to Bermuda was sure to be dangerous. We’d have to pass many islands, almost none of which would look kindly on our presence. I decided on a northerly route that would take us around the western tip of Cuba. We would then have a relatively straight eastward run out into the Atlantic. The most pressing danger would come from the Spanish ships plying the lanes between Florida, New Spain and Cuba.

Experienced Caribbean sailors know that a powerful current sweeps easterly just above Cuba. It then swings sharply northward up the coast of Florida. It could add almost five knots to the speed of a ship. Once again, we would be passing our hidden treasure. I pondered on whether we should stop to check on it, but decided not. Nothing would change the gold being there or not, and we might draw attention to its location.

Luck was with us, or so it seemed. We had safely rounded Cuba and were beating east, making good time in a stiff breeze. Then, as the sun broke the horizon – “Deck ho, many sail to larboard.” And a moment later: “They’re all over the place, too many to count and there’s land behind ’em!”

I knew at once I had misjudged the current and allowed us to be pushed too far north. That land must be Florida, and we were running headlong into a Spanish flotilla.

“All hands, action stations! Mister Halcombe, look to the sails, as much as we can carry. Master, bring us to a southeasterly course.” The hands complied, and the Siren and Majestic flew across the waves.

Maybe, just maybe, the Spanish might decide there was little to gain by pursuing us. But it was soon apparent that two large frigates were giving chase. I was at a loss as to why they were bothering, but the fact remained: we were in trouble. I wracked my brain for an answer but could find only one, and it was folly. We would head directly for the Bahamas, which would put us at risk of running straight into even more powerful British ships.

My main concern was that if we lost the Florida current, the Spaniards would quickly overtake us. Even now I could feel the Siren slowing. The Spanish captains almost certainly knew these waters better than I, for they didn’t follow us directly. Rather, they kept their ships to a slightly more northerly course, running parallel to us and gaining on us by the minute. Soon, they would tack and cut across our bows.

One initiated a manoeuvre, while the other carried on. What were they doing? Then it dawned on me. The first would cross close to our stern, and the second would head across our bows. We would be caught between two broadsides, and much bigger than ours. I guessed they carried thirty guns apiece. Our only chance was to more or less repeat something we’d done before – with one crucial difference.

“Signal Captain Jensen to tack to larboard — now.” I waited only until the signal flags were ready and on their way up.

“Mister Halcombe, let wind slip from the sails to slow us quickly. Then we will tack. Majestic and Siren will approach the Spaniard on either side of her. Guns, load the twelve-pounder with chain shot and aim for her masts. I shall veer away to give you an early shot. Then we’ll come back on course. Ready the nine-pounders with chain-shot as well.”

The difference between this engagement and our attack on the English frigate would be the twelve-pounder aimed at the rigging. With the Englishman, we had fired at the waterline.

I hoped Jensen had thought to load with heavy shot, but it didn’t matter much. I was out to disable the frigate, not sink her.

The second Spaniard had by now overshot us by a mile. He was out of the fight, at least for now. For the moment, we had but one to contend with.

On to Chapter Six!