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The Stowaway Passenger – Part 2(3): Punished

The following morning you began your new life as a trading ship deckhand. The ship was a big merchantman with a large crew, and most of them had been hired in Port Royal just the other day. Thanks to this, nobody seemed to notice there was suddenly a new face among their lot.

To your surprise, you found that you were not the only one with little to no experience, or the only seasick sailor either, for that matter. You blended in well.

Will looked out for you like he had promised, and would often find a chore nearby, where he could protect you from the more cruel of the older seamen. Some of them apparently took pleasure in making life hard for the newbies, and unfortunately it was only so much Will could do. By the end of the first week you had several bruises from their 'accidentally' stumbling over you in passing, or kicking your butt with a hard boot. You never complained, stoutly keeping your head down and mouth shut, refusing to give up your cover by acting like the soft rich man's child you had been.

"You're braver than I thought," mumbled Will appreciatively when you retreated to your hammock one evening. He reached out to touch your swollen thumb, where the first mate had trodden on you earlier that day.

His touch made your skin tingle, and not because of the bruise. "I do my best," you replied modestly, secretly revelling in his praise.

The next day when you went to empty the toilet bucket (you had been right about that becoming your job), the sky clouded over and a drizzle began. Soon the rain grew heavier, and before evening the wind blew hard and the waves were high. You were soaked to the bone and your seasickness – which had been improving – returned. The older sailors were quick to tell you this was good weather, and you ain't seen nothing yet, but to you this was a veritable storm.

After losing all you had eaten that day, you hung limply over the railing, feeling absolutely wretched. Your clothes clung to your body like glued on, and your hair was plastered to your face.

Then you felt a hand on your arm, and looked up to see Will hovering over you.

"Are you okay?" he yelled to be heard over the wind.

"No," you admitted miserably.

He flashed one of his attractive smiles at you. His white shirt had become see-through in the downpour, and despite the situation, you could not help looking appreciatively at his muscular torso and well defined arms. The top of his shirt was partly unbuttoned, exposing his tanned, smooth chest. You pushed down an urge to reach out and touch it.

You noticed his gaze similarly trailing over your body, and when his dark eyes met yours, your breath hitched. The air between you felt electric.

"Takin' a break, are we?" The boatswain's coarse voice broke the intense moment. He grabbed your arm painfully and dragged you away from the railing. As usual, he picked on the smaller, less experienced one, ignoring the fact that Will had also been idle.

"Sorry, sir," you said quickly, bowing humbly like you had seen the servants do back home. "I wasn't feeling well."

"Aww, the young 'un wasn't feeling well," he sneered, loosening a rolled up whip from his belt. "Lazy runt. This'll I'll teach ya."

"It was my fault." Will stood between you and the old sailor.

The boatswain looked at him like he was mad. "Go away."

"No. Carter is not to blame – I started it. If anyone should be punished, it's me."

"You want to be thrashed?"

"Can't say I do, but rather me than an innocent deckhand." He shrugged. "Well? Better get it over with, then. I've got work to do – once you've taught me."

"Don't beat him!" You poked your head out from behind Will's back. "I was sick and he just came to check on me."

"Shush." Will gently pushed you away. "I abandoned my lookout. I'm the wrongdoer here."

By now, a small crowd of sailors had gathered around you. They murmured among themselves, obviously curious to see what would happen.

The boatswain seemed confused, probably not used to having his underlings fight among themselves to be whipped.

"Beat 'em both." The captain's voice rang clear over the noise from the waves as he joined the commotion.

"Aye, captain." A lewd grin formed on the boatswain's burly face.

Will started to say something, but was interrupted by the captain. "And there's five extra lashes right there, Turner."

He shut his mouth then, but the look he sent the captain was furious.

Two of the bystanders grabbed you by the arms and held you against the railing, and behind you the boatswain raised his arm. You clenched your teeth, trying to be brave, but when you felt the first sting of the whip you could not hold back a yelp. After the third lash you were crying, and hating yourself for your weakness, but the burning pain was just too intense even through your shirt.

When it was his turn, Will continued glaring at the captain throughout the flogging. He grunted and winced with each stroke, but was otherwise silent.

Even with your own back on fire, you felt guilty for the trouble you had gotten him into. His shirt had become rose tinted where his skin had broken, but yours was still white, and you knew he had been beaten harder because he had tried to protect you.

The rest of that day went by in a blur. Your seasickness finally subsided, but your smarting back made every task harder. When you were finally allowed to stumble down to your hammock, you almost regretted ever leaving Port Royal. At least there, people had treated you nicely most of the time.

Will joined you shortly afterwards. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"You shouldn't have tried to stop him." You sniffled. "He made you bleed."

"I'm alright." He shrugged. "I've worked for cruel masters before – I can take a beating. But it must have been frightening for you."

"You're not alright. At least let me clean your wounds before your shirt gets stuck in them." You may not be the most experienced sailor there was, but you did know that an unattended injury was bound to fester.

After some coaxing from your part, Will relented and took his shirt off. Sitting cross legged in front of you, he let you wipe him with a rug soaked in seawater. You were in the far corner of the sleeping quarters, partly hidden by his large seaman's chest, which gave you a semblance of privacy. In addition it was quite dark, with only a sliver of weak moonlight finding its way in through a porthole.

His back did not look as bad as you had feared; most of the lashes had only resulted in slight swellings, but nonetheless the sight of those angry red stripes made you feel guilty.

"I hate him," you growled under your breath.

"Who? The captain or the boatswain?" You could hear from his voice he was amused.

"Both," you decided.

You spent a needlessly long time with your task, enjoying being so near him, and feeling his smooth skin under your fingers. You mentally berated yourself for it, of course, but your inappropriate emotions remained.

He was not unaffected either, you noticed. His cheeks were pinker than usual, and in the crook of his neck you saw his pulse throb quickly. Without pausing to think, you dropped the cloth and began stroking his back in an entirely different manner. As if your fingers were explorers of an unknown territory.

He turned his head back to meet your gaze. You had never seen his eyes look this black, and felt a twinge deep inside.

You wanted him, and by his expression you knew it was mutual. This was how it was supposed to be! During courtship with your intended in Port Royal, you had never felt anything even remotely like this.

Your hands trailed down his arms, and you let them slip under them, forward to his chest. How could he feel so hard and strong, and simultaneously so soft? You moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder and hugging him from behind. The pleasant scent of his skin filled your nostrils.

He covered your hands with his, stroking your fingers with his thumbs. Then he gently took them away and turned towards you. "I'd better check your back too." His voice was husky.

You nodded, biting down a smile, seeing his lips quirk up too. You both knew it was just an excuse to make you dress down as well.

Peering through the darkness, you made sure everyone nearby slept soundly, before unbuttoning your shirt and pulling your undershirt over your head. Feeling a bit exposed, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned away.

He positioned himself behind you, and you felt his fingers trace the welts from the whip. You shivered with pleasure.

"Bastards," he growled, and moving his mouth close to your ear, he whispered: "Let's jump ship at the next port." His breath tickled your neck and you shivered again.

"You mean deserting?" You turned around to face him.

His eyes widened when he saw your naked torso, but you did not mind. You could almost physically feel his eyes trailing over your body. "Yes, deserting," he mumbled breathily.

"They'll kill us if we get caught." Your heart was pounding, but fearing the captain catching you had nothing to do with it.

"So let's not get caught then." He grinned. Then his smile waned, and he softly touched your cheek. "I can't let them beat you for nothing again." Leaning forward, he ghosted a kiss on your lips. His short beard scratched your chin.

When he pulled back, you placed your palms on his neck and tugged him against you for another kiss, deeper.

You felt his hands roam your body, leaving a tingling heat in their wake. Meanwhile you buried your fingers in his soft hair, loosening it from the leather thong he had tied it back with.

"We shouldn't," he murmured against your lips. "Someone could..."

"I know," you agreed, not moving away.

He trailed light kisses down your neck, sucking in your skin between his teeth as he went.

"Naughty," you chided, and retaliated by doing the same to him, enjoying his salty taste and intoxicating smell.

"Sorry," he said, not looking apologetic at all.

Regarding the row of small hickeys you had created, you grinned. You would both have to wear a scarf tomorrow.

Suddenly the deck creaked at the other end of the compartment. Will and you quickly ducked behind his seaman's chest, and you scrambled after your undershirt, guiltily pulling it on.

You heard footsteps, and someone climbing the ladder. The hatch squeaked, and he was gone. Probably just someone getting a breath of fresh air.

Breathing out in relief, you could not hold back a bubbling giggle, and Will chortled silently into his arm. When you had calmed down, your eyes met, and of course neither of you could hold back another burst of merriment.

"We'd better get some sleep," Will wheezed at last, and you nodded, biting your lip.

When you lay in your hammocks, both more decently dressed again, he took your hand and pressed it. "Soon." He put it to his lips.

You squeezed his hand back. "Soon," you agreed. Soon you would leave this ship and make a new life for yourselves ashore. Together.

A/N:

The story really ends here, but I've written a bonus part about your first night ashore. It's not safe for work. ;)