Chapter 2
13 December, 1659 = Saturday
~Owen Hunt~

I was startled awake in the middle of the night by the quietness of it all. It took me a minute to realize that the reason I didn't hear the rumble of a Detroit Series 60 motor was that I was about three hundred twenty years before the first such motor was made. Feeling rested, I put on a fresh pair of socks, leaving the others to air and put my shoes on.

Stepping out of my cabin, the crew was busy trimming the sails, keeping them full of wind as we sailed along. I walked around to the poop deck, finding Stiles still at the helm though his eyes were drooping heavily. I shook my head, even as his head drooped forward. It was a classic case of overwork, but I couldn't help but smile as I'd been there too many times myself. The poor guy had likely stayed up all night piloting the ship for me, and he needed his rest.

"I admire you for your dedication," I told him, making him jerk awake once again. "But go lay down before you drop to the deck."

"Aye, sir," he said as I took the wheel.

He went below, and I handled the wheel for awhile, keeping us headed southwest. Several hours into it, I handed the wheel off to another sailor and began to check the area around us for reefs. An hour later, it was my look-out in the crows nest that signaled land. Going to my navigational charts, I studied the island we should be coming up on, and how best to approach port.

In the end, I decided to keep the wind on our left so that when we passed the bottom point of the island, we could put it to our backs. "Helm, steer southeast, and keep that island on our starboard side."

"Aye, captain," he said, steering left. The island grew closer, so I moved towards the bow with my spyglass and kept scanning our path for reefs and sandbars. Several times I saw the capping water and had the current helmsman steer us around it.

Near midday, we seemed to pass the southeastern point and we turned north west, and continued to follow the island's waterline until we saw a ship passing at a distance in front of us. I scanned it with my spyglass, seeing an orange flag I didn't immediately recognize. I knew the Spanish flag was yellow, and English was red and white, so figured the orange flag was likely Dutch. That put us not far from the port, which was good. I wanted to get there.

As the shadows started to grow again, I could make out the silhouettes of a few buildings in the distance through my spyglass. Soon, the port was easy to see, and we started to sail right in. I had the crew begin to lower the mainsails just as soon as we did, and Stiles arrived on deck just as I had them drop the last of the sails and we bumped dock and a man stood there with a ledger.

"Ship and captain's name?" he asked me, opening the ledger on a post and pulling a quill and ink bottle from a pocket.

"Badger," I told him, remembering it from the log. "I am Captain Owen Hunt."

"Welcome to Saint Eustatius, Captain Hunt," he said as he continued to dab his quill in ink and write in the ledger. "Purpose of your visit?"

"To acquire a Letter of Marque," I told him, deciding to be truthful in my intentions and also glad that we had found the island we sought.

"Then you'll need to see Governor Fitzherbert at his mansion," he told me as he finally stoppered the ink and put it away. "Enjoy your stay, captain."

"Thank you, good sir," I said as the guy closed his ledger and left. I turned back to my crew and nodded to them.

"Alright, lads," I started, unsure of what to say or do. "We're in for the night. If you have coin to buy drink or women with, feel free to go ashore but be back in the morning! If you get yourself locked up in jail when I set out, I'll leave you behind. Questions?"

No man did, and I led my crew off to the pier. A group of women stood by the way into town, most holding signs that I think were names of ships. Those that didn't have signs came by asking my my crew if they had heard of the ship their man sailed on, and that they were overdue to return. I walked on, with no woman asking me any questions probably as they sensed I was the captain and wasn't to be bothered.

A man in a fanciful suit was just getting out of a carriage as we neared the road, and he held up his hand. "Are any of you men the captain?" he asked.

"I am," I said, approaching him as my crew continued to walk by. "Captain Owen Hunt of the Badger."

"I am Governor Fitzherbert's personal assistant, Simmons," he said as he held the carriage door. "He is currently very busy today and has sent me to bring you to his mansion to speak with him. If you would, sir."

"Thank you, Mister Simmons," I said as I climbed into the carriage. Simmons climbed in behind me, and they drove me to the mansion.

As we stepped out, I could see that the term mansion was probably a loose term in the past, as it was really nothing more than a very large house, maybe a hundred by a hundred fifty with gardens surrounding it. Simmons led me inside, up the stairs to a study where he stopped at the door, then motioned me inside.

"Governor Fitzherbert will be with you shortly," he said as he took a post just outside the door.

I nodded, going inside and he shut the door behind me. Several bookcases lined the wall, some filled with books, others with rolls of paper. Just outside the door, a brown haired woman in a pink and lavender dress sat to an easel, painting upon it and occasionally dabbing more color onto her brush.

She didn't notice me until I moved closer, and I could see her better. She was petite, maybe in her thirties or early forties with laugh lines around her lips. Her dress also had golden flowers sewn into it, but not a single splotch of paint marred it. She smiled at me, then nodded to her painting.

"Beautiful, isn't it," she said, her voice light and airy.

"Yes, it is," I said, nodding in appreciation. "You do good work."

"Are you here to see my husband?" she asked me as she continued to paint. I nodded my head yes, and she continued on. "Well, Governor Ryder should be here pretty soon."

"I thought the governor was named Fitzherbert," I told her and she laughed cheerily.

"Everyone does, though I don't know why," she told me which added to the confusion. "It was Eugene Fitzherbert that they hung, not Flynn Ryder. He was my beau for over a year, you don't think I would know the difference?"

"I'm sure you would, Miss Ryder," I said as she laid the easel aside and dropped the brush in a cup of water. "Heading somewhere?"

"It's getting about time for the boys to get out of school," she said, as she cleaned her brush with a rag. "I like to read to the younger ones. Reminds me of my two boys."

"Ah," I said, smiling at her. "The young have left the home and it makes you lonely."

"Yes," she said, blushing at the thought. "I do get to see my boys. Maximus, the oldest, is an officer in the army, and Pascal is in the Navy. You never seen two different boys, but both know to come home to see their mother when they pass this way and they write all the time."

"They were raised well, then," I told her as she set her paints to the side.

"They were," she said as we went into the study where she selected a book off the shelf. "Well, I need to go, mister..." she said, trailing off as she searched for a name.

"Hunt," I told her, bowing and taking her proffered hand to kiss it. "Captain Hunt of the Badger."

"I'm Rapunzel," she said as she held the book close to her bosom. "Well, fair winds and a following sea, captain," she said, offering me the traditional parting words as she left me to wait for the governor.

I didn't have long to wait as another man soon entered the room. "Hello, captain," he said, as he passed me to go sit behind his desk. "It's not often we get an English ship in our port. Care to explain?"

"We mutinied against our captain and we are loathe to sail into an English port for fear of being hung," I told him simply. "It is my desire to seek a Letter of Marque to lend legality to our actions."

"Well, that's quite easy," he said as he opened a drawer and pulled out a leather roll and laid it out. Unrolling it, I could see it was a Letter of Marque. "Name?"

"Captain Owen Hunt," I told him and he wrote my name on the document. He then signed it, then took a red stick of wax and began to melt it before letting it drip on the bottom. Once he had a small circle of wax built up, he then reached into a box and pulled a seal and stamped it into the wax. Putting everything away, he then rolled the document up and handed it to me.

"There you go captain," he said, and I took the document and held it under my arm. "I must advise you though in the future to sail under a Dutch flag if you're going to be taking ships for the king. You may also fly a buccaneer flag, but it has to be under the Dutch flag."

"Thank you, Governor Fitzherbert," I said, then shook my head. "Or is it Ryder?"

"I see you've been talking to my wife," he said with a chuckle. "It's Fitzherbert. Flynn Ryder was my captain and her beau back in 1644, when he was hung by pirates for attempting to rescue her. Yes, we do look a lot alike, but Ryder was more of a show-off and loved his theatrics. He also was big on putting bits of wax on his nose to make it look bigger than it was."

"So, why does she not realize the difference?" I asked and he sighed and relaxed into his chair.

"Because, she was badly mistreated by them," he started to explain. "There was nothing I could do to stop them from hanging Ryder. I was one of the only ones not taken captive, and the only member of the shore party that returned. It also meant that I couldn't just stroll into their headquarters to get a closer look at what was going on, but I've seen enough men hung to know he was dead. I had to run to escape a patrol, and didn't make it back until it was almost morning and they had partied themselves into a good drunk and passed out where they lay.

"That's when I found her," he said, wiping at his eyes. "She was in a grass hut in the middle of the 'festivities,' laying naked in a bed with a large pirate. I stabbed him twice in the back, then woke Rapunzel and got her dressed. She thought I was Flynn come to rescue her, and ever since, she's refused to call me Eugene. She even made me marry her as if I were Ryder, though her father didn't want to. It's the only time she's ever threatened to harm anyone, and it was only to harm herself.

"Her father relented, I guess for his daughters sake," he continued on as I stood there in silence. "I do like her, care for her even, but it strains me sometimes having to pretend I'm Ryder for her. Most everyone that deals with us know the story, and people have said I need to lock her away, but I can't do it to her."

"It's a terrible thing to do to a person," I told him and he nodded his head as he dabbed at his eyes. "The young boys she was going to read to?"

"Oh, they'll be fine," he said dismissively. "In fact, they're in the best hands on the island. She's not dangerous, even if she can't handle the truth about Ryder."

"I'm sorry," I told him and he turned to look out the doors where Rapunzel had been painting.

"Me too," he said. "I met her once, when Ryder was still alive. We used to have this bar called the Ugly Duckling in Saint Martin that our crew hung out in when we were in port. Ryder brought her to the bar one evening and she stayed for a few hours before they left. She commented then on how we look alike, but we're not related.

"I guess I'll continue to care for her," he said, his voice growing sad. "At least we had two great kids together. Some things worked out at least."

"One last thing before I go," I said, and the governor turned to look at me. "We never killed the previous captain. I have him locked in our brig."

"I'll send Simmons back down with a detachment of soldiers," he said as he stood up. "We'll have him imprisoned. You see, we got a war going on with the English, the Spanish and the French. So unless they're flying a Dutch flag, they are fair game. Just bring me the ship's log of any ship you can't bring back to get credit for the sinking. We had a few unscrupulous privateers in the past try to claim more than they actually sank. They got drunk and caught, and I had them imprisoned for five years."

"I hope they learn their lesson."

"Me too," he said as we walked out. "See, we award promotions to captains who take ships of the enemy. Privateers often try to make a living taking the shipping of the enemy and sale their cargo in friendly ports, earning both gold and a career. The truly great ones can even earn titles of nobility from the king, and even gain the kings ear. It also doesn't hurt that some of us governors have beautiful young daughters looking for a wealthy man to wed. My counterpart in Curacao has a lovely young daughter who's almost ready to marry. A fine young lad like you would have a good chance if you can prove yourself a capable privateer."

"Thank you for the advice, Governor Fitzherbert," I said as we approached the door. Simmons was waiting at the carriage, probably to take me back to the docks.

"Advice, as always, is free," he said with a smile. "It's following it that costs you a hand and an eye. Simmons, take Captain Hunt back to his ship. He has an English captain in his brig that needs to be imprisoned until we can send him back to Saint Kitts."

"Yes, sir," he said then opened the door to allow me into the carriage.

"Safe travels, captain," the governor called, before going back in the mansion.

With nothing left to do, I climbed in the carriage with Simmons climbing in behind me and we went back to the docks. Simmons just pulled a pair of guards from their post as he followed me back to the ship, where I released the former captain to the guards. His chest in hand, he walked quietly off my ship and to prison.

"Thank you, captain," Simmons said, as he too departed, and I went into my private quarters to stow my new Letter of Marque in my sea chest.

I eyed the barrel of coins, and not knowing their value, took a large double handful with me in my pocket. I could only hope that they were the equivilent of dollars in my time, and were universally accepted wherever I went. Setting the coins in the leather pouch that normally covered the barrel, I ended up tying it off on my belt, as my pants had no pockets, and walked back to the deck.

It seemed odd just leaving the ship without anyone guarding it, so I made up my mind that I would only briefly hang out in town before I returned to guard it myself. It would also allow me time to figure out my next move, some of which I thought about on my way into town.

With a Letter of Marque, I was now a recognized privateer for the Dutch, though my ship sailed an English flag. I had to remedy that, so I stopped by a merchant and purchased a proper flag to be delivered the next day. The coins I carried turned out to be pieces of eight, a Spanish coin that was indeed accepted nearly everywhere, and the flag only cost me five pieces.

Moving on, I found a sign for a tavern and headed to it when movement in the alley right outside caught my eye. It turned out to be a tall, long brown haired woman who was bent over wiping her mouth with a cloth. I moved a bit closer, seeing she had been puking on the ground. She straightened when my shoes sent a rock skittering, and she cocked a hip and smiled at me. She was dressed in a purple dress, with a bit of cleavage showing and bare arms. I thought it immodest for the time, but said nothing.

"Fine gentleman you are," she spoke saucily while smiling at me, completely hiding the fact I could see what she had for lunch on the ground behind her. "Rushing to help a lady."

"You seemed to have it under control," I told her, remembering the women of my time not liking it when a man tried to interfere with their problems, whether or not they needed or asked for it.

"You're right, I can handle it," she said as she moved closer. I backed up into the street, allowing her room, and she turned to face the sign and sighed. "So, headed inside where you can buy a woman's time or headed back to your ship."

"I was headed inside," I told her, making her stop and look back at me. "But if you're willing..."

"I'm willing," she said coming back to stand beside me. "Need forty pieces, but I'd be yours all night."

"Forty pieces, huh," I said, thinking it might be a bit high. Not that I knew what the price was for buying a ladies attentions for the whole night, but forty seemed high. "If you needed that many coins, I would have thought you'd have a man to provide for you."

I knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say as she dropped every ounce of her saucy attitude and sagged against the wall before looking at her feet. "I did, once," she finally said softly. "Did you see the women holding signs when you left the dock?"

"I did," I told her, remembering the women well.

"They're looking for news of their husbands and sons," she told me, still not looking up. "Up to a month ago, I was among them, looking for news of the Dreamer's Delight."

"I'm sorry," I said, knowing the new she got must not have been good.

"Thank you," she said, finally looking up with a tear in her eye. "I got the word from a sailor that the ship had been attacked by Captain Hook and was sank with no survivors."

"Any children?" I asked and she shook her head.

"No, and maybe it's best that we didn't," she continued on. "I couldn't imagine trying to raise a child without him, now that he's...not..." she tried to say before she began crying.

I held her close, allowing her to vent her frustrations into my shoulder before she pushed me away. "You're a kind enough man, why are you getting your fun in a place like this?"

"I'm too much of a wanderer to settle down, just yet," I told her and she smiled. "So, if you're willing, why don't we go back to my ship and enjoy the night?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to need a few pints of rum before we get to the fun part," she said, and I smiled at her, knowing it hurt to lose your loved ones. I never had a taste for alcohol myself, it always tasted terrible to me, but I'd not let hre sell herself to me while she mourned her husband.

"Well, first we go to the merchant down the way here and get us a barrel or two, then we head back to my ship," I said and she smiled and linked her arm in mine.

"Lead the way, sailor boy," she smiled as she gave me a playful pat on the rump.

"My name is Owen Hunt," I told her and she gave me another playful pat as we walked down the street.

"Megara," she said, keeping close beside me.

We got a barrel of rum, mostly because Megara said she didn't need but a few pints and my protests that I wouldn't need any at all, which Megara threw her eyebrows up at. Heading back to my ship with a barrel on one shoulder and Megara under the other, she laughed at seeing my small sloop.

"Reminds me of the Dreamer's Delight," Megara said as she saw my ship as we walked down the dock.

"How many cannon does she run?" I asked her and she smiled fondly as she ran a hand over a cannon as she passed.

"Sixteen," she said, as I kept us walking to the Captain's Cabin. The barrel wasn't all that heavy, not to me at least, but it did hurt the shoulder after a while. "He had a hundred men following him and Phil to sea on his last trip out."

"I don't have but eight cannons right now, but I can field twelve, I figure," I said, and Megara turned to look at the ship once more.

"Hmm, well if you happen to be any good with your privateering, maybe one day we can do it on something bigger," she said snarkily, and I couldn't help but feel it was a jab at my manhood.

"I got something bigger for you," I replied as she opened the door and stepped inside.

Her breath caught momentarily as she caught sight of the bed, but she turned and let her gaze go to other places. I walked around her, setting the barrel on my desk where the spout would be easy accessed with a cup. Megara found a mug that the former captain kept and poured herself a full one, drowning most of it in one go after looking at the bed again.

"You know, you never settled on the price," she said, refilling her mug.

"I believe you said forty pieces," and she giggled.

"Well, that's what that scrooge of a landlord wants for rent this month," she said, then sighed again before taking another slug of rum. "Rents due in three days and I'm currently short that much."

"I'll pay you the whole forty," I said and she hiccuped her rum back into her mug.

"I didn't know they made so much," she finally said.

"First time selling yourself?" I asked her and she nodded glumly.

"I come from a good home in Greece," she said, and leaned up against the desk where she looked at the floor. "Hercules, my former husband, married me and took me away from all that. Brought me here. He's paid for everything for me, and I've never had to do this. That's why I was so upset at walking into the tavern to sell myself to some drunken sailor, and why I'm drinking now."

"Building up the courage to climb into the bed?" I asked and she gave a hiccup that she drowned in rum.

"I'm a big girl who ties her own sandals and everything," she said, trying for the sauce she showed earlier but it fell flat to me. She looked at me before sighing again. "Okay, so maybe I didn't use to make my own way in this world. But I never had to beg for it either."

"True," I said, moving forward to take the mug from her hand. "But there's no bravado in rum. It might dull the pain tonight, but tomorrow is the day you'll wake up and have to deal with yourself and what happens tonight."

"And what happens tonight?" she asked, looking into my eyes.

"Only what you want to happen," I said, and she gave another hiccup and sniffled as if her nose was running.

"Promise me one thing?" she asked, her voice wavering a bit. "Promise me you'll be gentle?"

"Sure," I told her, looking into her hazel eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, she slipped the straps of the dress off her shoulders and let the purple garment fall to the desk, revealing her pale breasts as it pooled around her hips. I looked down at her pale mounds, seeing that they were a small 'C' cup with bright pink nipples. I stretched a hand out, letting one of my rough fingers caress her smooth skin and her breath caught again.

"No one's ever touched me but Hercules," she said, her voice shaking as she kept breathing, then chuckled. "No one's even seen me bare but him, either."

"That's about to change," I said, cupping a hand around her back and pulling her to her feet. Once she was standing, and off the desk, her purple dress fell to the floor to reveal her naked and bony body and the brown hair that marked her bikini area. She stepped forward, leaving her dress behind and followed me to the bed, where she turned and gave me a kiss.

"Take me, I'm yours," she breathed as she undid my trousers to reveal my hardening cock.

I hadn't much of a chance to see how big it was, but before my coming here it was nice enough to pleasure a woman. Under Megara's soft and careful hands, I watched as it swelled and grew, finally topping out at about eleven inches long with a hefty shaft. Her eyes grew wide at seeing it, but she dropped down in front of me and began sucking it into her mouth, the silky smooth walls of her mouth.

I groaned at the pleasure I felt, feeling her suck me off as I stood there. With nothing left to do, and needing to do it anyway, I peeled off my shirt, throwing it over my chest. Megara continued to suck on my stick, but she couldn't take the whole thing into her mouth without gagging.

Eventually though, the pleasure had me shooting my piece off in her mouth with an anguished grunt, and she gagged as she caught a full load in the back of her mouth. With nowhere for it to go, and since it was choking her, she swallowed the first shot and I kept unloading more. She kept swallowing, but I could feel some pool around the shaft as it overwhelmed her until she finally managed to fall back against the bed. My stiff rod gave one last shot of semen that landed on her breasts, where it oozed down her chest.

She panted against the bed as my final shot continued to slide down her chest, and she smiled at me. "Warn a girl next time?"

"Sure," I said, smirking at her as she used a hand to smear my semen into her skin.

Reaching down, I lifted her up and set her back on the bed where she lay back and spread her legs. Kicking off my shoes and forcing my pants off my legs, I climbed on top of her, spreading her legs further apart with my hands and licking her labia. She gave a squeal as my tongue parted her womanhood, and I used my thumbs to open her up to my tongue as I continued to lick deep into her.

Megara moaned and squirmed under my assault, arching her back and clawing the sheets in an attempt to alleviate the overwhelming pleasure she felt. I kept it going, eventually reaching up to her chest and rub at her breast. Megara kept moaning, wrapping her legs around my head and pinning my lapping tongue.

When she got close, I stopped my tongue and forced her legs apart. Climbing up her body as she panted from the nearness to her orgasm, I smiled devilishly at her before pressing my hard rod against her slick womanhood. She reached down a hand between us, guiding me into her hole, which once I had the tip in, started to press deep into her.

She gave a soft scream as I bore deep into her, my deep drilling of her tight shaft finding the bottom of her hole. I backed off a little, then gave another deep shove which made her cry out again. I settled onto the top of her, then started to drill in her hole. The lack of an orgasm from my tonguing had her slick insides craving my meat, and I drilled her hard and fast. Soon, she was writing under me, arching her back and clawing my covers as she moaned to the heavens for release.

I kept drilling, her hole growing tighter around my rod. She panted hard, and then with a shriek, I felt her body tighten around me as she finally climaxed. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me deep into her, her arms snapping around my neck and her nails dug into my back. Locked into her tight embrace, I couldn't move so I rested while I prepared for our next round.

It was only due to our intimate embrace that I could feel her sob as she muttered, "Synchóresé me," and left me to wonder what she meant. She kept me locked in our embrace for several long minutes, until she finally relaxed and sank into the mattress under me. When she looked up at me, I could see the tears in her eyes as she smiled wanly up at me.

"It's all right," she said, as she caught the concern in my eyes about if I was too rough on her. "The sea of raging hormones has ebbed, and I think I might have ruined the cover."

"Forget about the cover," I said, gaining a chuckle from her. "You look sad about something?"

She looked away for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with what I was asking. "It's..." she started to say, then stopped, before turning her head to look me in the eye. "You're the second man I've made love to," she finally said. "I guess I'm still getting used to the idea of selling myself to survive."

"We can stop here if you want," I said and I saw her grimace.

"And what about the rest of the night?" she asked, but her voice sounded unsure.

"It does no good to keep going on if you're scared," I told her.

"Not scared," she corrected me, even though I was still inside her.

"I can feel you tremble," I told her. "And I don't mean with my arms."

"I think that might be the ecstasy you made me feel," she said with a smile.

"Oh," I said, looking down at her sweat covered chest. "Ready to go again?"

"There's an encore?" she asked aghast.

"Oh yeah."