Chapter Three: Don't Ask, Don't Tell

The French frigate, La Pucelle emerged from the thick fog and managed to fire a volley before the Surprise recovered and launched her own damaging counterattack. By luck or by skill--likely a combination of both--Mr. Hogg sent his shot smashing through La Pucelle's mainmast. The rigging prevented it from toppling immediately, but topple it did, followed by the roar of the triumphant English and their cannons, in that order.

By contrast, the occupants of the cockpit were dismally unaware of the ship's impending victory. The wounded languished on the floor or were propped up against wooden beams awaiting what treatment Dr. Maturin and his mates could provide. Mr. Padeen, the loblolly boy, offered drink to those who could still ask for it and self-conscious words of comfort to the dying. Amidst the screams of broken men, the stench of blood, and the sound of sand scraping under his shoes, Dr. Maturin noticed that there was something very odd about Mr. Sheppard.

The young man was a godsend, of that he was certain. While Maturin and Higgins tended to the severely wounded, Mr. Sheppard was left to deal with the more superficial injuries that allowed otherwise fit men to return to duty. Stephen told himself he should just thank the good Lord and leave it at that, but his innate (some would say relentless) curiosity would not allow it.

Perhaps it was because Stephen had been more interested in the results of Mr. Sheppard's work to only now notice that the boy had rather small hands for a sailor. When Will discarded his blood-filled shoes, Stephen couldn't help but remark to himself that Sheppard's feet were unusually small as well. But it was the young man's compassion and natural bedside manner that struck Stephen as positively…

Womanly. Maturin closed his eyes and sighed.

Against his nature, as well as his better judgment, Stephen abruptly suspended any further mental inquiry into the mystery of young 'Mr.' Sheppard. The boy had proven himself a fine assistant and Stephen desperately needed his help. Right now, that was all that mattered.

The Surprise managed to cripple La Pucelle which was now listing badly to larboard. Captain Aubrey was just about to give the order to board the French frigate when the enemy fired a last desperate shot.

The cannonball ripped through the binnacle box near the helm, destroying the ship's compass. The blast sent chucks of sharp wood flying through the air. Barrett did not feel the large splinter imbed itself into his cheek, but suddenly he could see naught but red out of his right eye. Captain Aubrey stared at him in alarm and barked an order to a sailor beyond his limited field of vision. "Mr. Wilde, take the helm! Mr. Sloane, get Mr. Bonden to the cockpit, now!"

Barrett went to touch his eye, half expecting to feel an empty socket in its place, but his hand was firmly stayed. He felt a cloth being tied over his eye and cheek, then strong arms guiding him to sick-bay. The pain finally reached his brain, sending his head swimming and his stomach lurching. At least he would be able to see how Will was getting on, he thought giddily, through his one good eye.

Will rushed to Barrett as soon as he saw him, relieving Mr. Sloane of his burden. The boy's brow was furrowed with worry. "Everything's going to be fine, Barrett," he said unconvincingly, his gentle voice catching in his throat. "I'm going to look after you." Will helped him to sit in a chair. "Dr. Maturin! I need your help."

It seemed Barrett waited an hour before the doctor finally came over and removed the makeshift bandage, soaked with blood. Barrett was relieved to discover that he could still see out of his right eye, though his vision was still blurred with red. He looked down and saw the chunk of wood sticking out of his cheek.

"Close your eyes, Mr. Bonden," the doctor ordered calmly.

With a last glance at a smiling Will, Bonden complied. He felt the light tug of the doctor's finger's gripping the splinter, then the brief, but excruciating pain of its removal. Immediately, the pain was dulled by a clean rag pressed hard against his cheek.

"When bleeding stops, Mr. Sheppard, make certain the wound is clear of any stray splinters, then you may stitch him up. Be sure to use the finest needle and thread you have. Make the sutures small and as close together as you can, to minimize scarring. We must do all we can to preserve what little beauty Mr. Bonden possesses." Barrett peeked out of his left eye to see the corners of the doctor's mouth curl into an impish grin.

"Don't you listen to him," Will whispered. "You're quite handsome and you will continue to be so, don't you worry."

The feel of the boy's breath on his hypersensitive skin made him forget his pain, but it also made his groin stir. He clenched his fist to stop himself from stroking Will's smooth cheek. "I trust you with my life, Will; I know you'll do a fine job." Truth be told, Barrett would rather have had the doctor for his tailor, but Maturin had more serious business to attend to. After a quarter of an hour, the bleeding had stopped. As Will inspected the wound, Barrett noticed a tear running down the boy's cheek.

"No tears," Barrett whispered. "It's nothing."

Will wiped his face on his bloodied sleeve. "You could have lost your eye."

"But I didn't. Save your tears for those who deserve it."

"I've cried for them too. Mostly on the inside, otherwise I can't see what I'm doing."

Barrett grinned, then wish he hadn't as a sharp pain shot through his face. "You'd best dry up directly before you start stitching me up. You heard what the doctor said; I can't afford to get any uglier."

It turned out that Barrett's apprehensions about Will's ability were unfounded. The stitches were perfectly small and close together, just as the doctor instructed. Barrett doubted Maturin could have done a finer job. By the time he was able to return to duty, La Pucelle had been secured and repairs on both ships had already commenced. He was grateful for the distraction the hard work provided. Even as he toiled, Barrett daydreamed of Will lying on a clean, white bed, his arms outstretched and welcoming. Bonden imagined himself standing beside him, unable to claim his lover, his whole body wracked with the torment of unfulfilled love and lust.

For an entire fortnight, Barrett had to report to sick-bay daily so Will could examine his wound. The pain of the gash on his cheek was nothing compared to the torture of the boy's touch. On the fourteenth day, Will removed the stitches and pronounced Barrett healed. The boy stroked his cheek and whispered, "As handsome as ever."

Barrett only just managed to excuse himself before Will could see his rock-hard cock straining against his trousers. After Bonden ducked into private alcove and quickly stroked himself to release, he resolved to put a stop to this game Will was playing this very night.

When the middle watch was called, Bonden was relieved at the helm. He climbed below deck and gingerly navigated his way through the scores of gently swinging hammocks until he reached Will. He put his hand over the boy's mouth, immediately awakening him, and hissed in his ear. "Come with me."

There was no safe place for their midnight meeting, so Barrett led Will to a tight corner on the quarter deck, far enough away from the Captains Quarters to not be seen, but close enough so their words would be drowned out by the raucous laughter of the officers gathered there for fine wine and conversation.

Barrett turned on the boy and let his anger carry his words. "I'm going to say this once, so you'd best listen. You just keep to yourself and I'll just keep to myself." Barrett took the lad by the shoulders and shook him. "I don't want you! I ain't no nancy-boy, do you hear me!"

Will shook his head while tears streamed down his pretty cheeks. "Please, Barrett… please, forgive me."

Bonden's determination faded with Will's plea. All Barrett wanted to do was kiss his tears away. Furious tears welled in his own eyes as he shook the boy again. "If you truly loved me," Barrett croaked, "you'd let me be."

Will's body was soon wracked with sobs. Bonden had to keep the boy quiet, otherwise he would be sure to rouse the whole ship. So Barrett did the only logical thing he could think of and covered Will's soft mouth with his own.

At once Will's cries were silenced and Barrett finally gave into his sinful passion for the boy. By mutual, unspoken agreement, they skipped the sweet teasing kisses that new lovers usually engaged in, instead devouring each other with their mouths. They both knew their time was precious. Buggery was a hanging offense; it would not matter that Barrett had not used the boy. If they were caught kissing, the captain would have no choice but to call for a court martial.

Barrett thrust his tongue into the boy's willing mouth. Will reciprocated timidly at first, but soon the lad was wrestling Barrett's tongue for supremacy. Barrett held Will tightly, not caring if he bruised the lad's slight body. Will, in turn, pulled at Barrett's hair and dug his fingers into the Coxswain's back. Barrett's hands traveled down Will's back to his buttocks, which were surprisingly plump given the boy's size. Barrett felt his hardening cock pressing against the lad's hip, but didn't feel anything against his thigh. He withdrew and regarded his lover with confusion.

Understanding gleamed in Will eyes, but Barrett's questions were answered by another. "Do you love me, Barrett?"

"I do," he breathed. "May the Devil take me straight to Hell for it."

Will unbuttoned his shirt and revealed his chest, bound tightly with a long strip of muslin. Barrett's eyes grew wide, a blissful smile crossed his features as he fell to his knees and pressed his head against his--her breast. "Praise the Lord!"

She ran her gentle hands through his hair "I'm so sorry for deceiving you. Please forgive me."

He raised his head and looked into her beautiful eyes. How could he not have seen the truth before? "I will if you tell me your name."

She smiled, her tears flowing anew. "India. That's where my parents were when I was born." She put her arms around him and pressed him to her chest. Barrett took in her sweet musky scent, so relieved he started to weep. He knew they couldn't tarry much longer, but he was determined to explore as much of her body as he could before they were forced to go below deck. While he kneaded one soft buttock in his hand, he slipped his other between her legs and rubbed her through her trousers. He smiled. She was a woman, all right.

India tightened her embrace and leaned over him, breathing a muffled cry against his shoulder. She moved her pelvis back and forth against his hand, her breathing becoming more erratic. Barrett stood up and claimed her mouth again as he slipped his hand inside her trousers. With a sigh she lowered her head and buried it in his chest. Then she brought her own hand down and brushed it against his hardness. Barrett remained silent, but threw his head back, anxious to have his own need tended to. He quickened the circular motion of his fingers against her sex until he felt her body jerk and her teeth sink into his bicep.

She looked up at him apologetically and mouthed, "I couldn't help myself, you taste so wonderful."

He smiled, and his shoulders shook with quiet laughter. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her so she could whisper in his ear. "I wish to taste more of you, but I promise not to bite this time."

India got down on her knees and untied the laces of his trousers. He stayed her hand and shook his head.

"I want to," she mouthed.

Barrett was so hard his cock hurt; Any further objections stuck in his throat. India gently freed his cock, but the cold night air did nothing to dampen his desire. She seemed unsure about what to do next, so he took her hand and wrapped it around the shaft demonstrating with his own hand how tight she should grip him. He started moving his hips back in forth, more than satisfied with the feel of her hand around him. Apparently, his ecstasy was not enough for India. She placed the tip of her tongue on the head of his cock, then opened her mouth wide and allowed him to thrust his cockhead inside her.

Other women, namely whores, had done such things for him before. But India was no whore. With a flush of embarrassment, he realized she must have overheard him and his crewmates discussing the more enjoyable aspects of shore leave. There was something wrong with a fine woman like her on her knees before him, particularly since he loved her with all his heart. That didn't prevent him from coming harder than he ever had into her mouth.

India coughed against his leg and wiped her mouth with her kerchief. Barrett helped her to her feet and kissed her tenderly. He embraced her for one last precious moment, whispering inadequate words of adoration in her delicate ear.

It was pure misfortune that Dr. Maturin decided to leave Jack's party early and stumbled upon Mr. Bonden and Mr. Sheppard. He was quite drunk, but sober enough to see more than he cared to. The couple did not see him and when they finally parted, Stephen gave Mr. Bonden quite a start when he stepped out from the shadows.

Before Bonden could speak, Maturin raised his hand. "Not a word, Mr. Bonden. The less I know the better. But man, you must be more discreet. And for god's sake don't--"

"Sir?"

Stephen was about to say, 'don't get the girl pregnant,' but that would be an admission of guilt on his own part. "Just be careful. I know nothing of this, understood?"

"Understood," the Bonden replied with a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, Barrett," Stephen said wryly. "You're playing with fire."

"I know," he said with a resigned smile. "But it can't be helped. We're in love."

Stephen rolled his eyes and snorted. "Yes, well, I'm certain the captain will be quite touched by that at your court martial. Good night, Bonden."

Maturin was gratified to see a healthy glint of fear suddenly shining in Barrett's eyes. "Good night, sir."

To be continued…