Across the Sea

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The stench below decks assaulted Jacob’s nostrils even before he’d reached the bottom of the steps. A sudden and powerful wave of nausea swept over him and he struggled to keep down whatever contents were in his stomach. The single file of men shuffling back to their bunks was silent. Jacob had no doubt they were experiencing the very same struggle.

He made up his bed and then sat at the foot of his bunk, staring up at the deck. Why did you do it? he wondered. What good has it done? Not only had Peter acted foolishly, unnecessarily, but he’d earned himself fifty lashes for his efforts.

As if his thoughts had been the trigger to commence the punishment, he heard the crack of a whip. He pictured the thin red s***h across Peter’s back. His eyes filled with tears when he thought of the forty-nine lashes yet to come. Another crack. But no cries. He knew Peter would never let them hear him cry out. He knew enough of Peter to know he’d take his punishment courageously.

Someone rested their hand on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts.

“Hello, boy.”

It was McCready, a solid, muscular man whose facial features had been put together in such a way that he looked every bit as mean as he was. He was wearing a lecherous smile and rubbing the front of his trousers with the palm of his hand. Jacob hadn’t meant to look, but his eyes automatically went to the man’s crotch. In the dim light filtering down through the ventilator, he saw a large bulge, and when McCready hooked his fingers into the top of his pants, Jacob felt his blood start to boil. His hands became fists.

“Get away from me!” he bellowed.

McCready recoiled. His jaw dropped open and his eyes bulged. He quickly, nervously, looked around the cell, and saw he had the attention of every man in it. His hand came away from his crotch. He glared at Jacob, leaning down until his face was only inches away. His breath reeked.

“You’ll get yers,” he snarled in his Scottish brogue before skulking off into the shadows.

Jacob’s heart was pounding. He could feel a vein throbbing in his temple. He’d managed to stave off McCready’s attention this time, but he’d been lucky. He’d taken the man by surprise, embarrassed him in front of the other convicts. He knew he wouldn’t be so lucky next time. He had neither the strength to overpower McCready, nor any avenue of escape.

Jacob crawled into his bunk and lay on his back. He listened to the whip cracking over and over and over. After Peter had received his fifty lashes, Collins would receive his. They’d both be taken to the infirmary and when they’d recovered, Collins would be sent back to the cell and Peter would begin his time in the stocks. Either way, Jacob would have to take care of himself for at least another twenty-four hours.

Fortunately, the rest of the day passed without any further incident. It was the long night ahead that bothered him.

The bunks were narrow, one atop the other. A man called Thomas slept in the bunk above him. To Jacob’s right was a man called Albert and to his left, an Irishman named Collum. He acknowledged both of them as he crawled into his bunk that evening, exhausted after an eventful day. The minute his head hit the pillow, his eyelids grew heavy. Fortunately, sleep was quick to arrive.

At some point during the night he woke up. The second he opened his eyes he discovered why. There was someone in the bunk with him. He pushed and kicked, and felt whoever it was knock into Albert. A hand came from behind to cover his mouth. There were two of them.

He bit the hand and it was pulled away.

“Get off me,” he shouted.

Shouting had worked last time. But these men, one of whom he was certain was McCready, weren’t going to be deterred so easily this time. They tried grabbing him again so he kicked and punched and pushed for all he was worth.

“Shut yer mooth, boy.” The thick Scottish accent was unmistakeable.

Soon Albert was joining in the tussle and then Collum. Someone pulled the man behind Jacob straight out of the bunk. He heard the dull smack of a punch being landed, a grunt and then someone crashing to the floor.

“You’ll ‘ave the redcoats down ‘ere,” someone further along called out.

Together, Jacob and Albert were able to overpower McCready. Albert climbed on top of the man, pinning his arms to the bunk; which can’t have been comfortable since the board dividing the bunks would have been jutting up right into the centre of McCready’s back. Jacob sat on his ankles.

“Now, McCready. We’ve had enough. You’ll have the redcoats down here and then there’ll be more trouble than any of us want. You’re to leave the boy alone. Understood?”

“Get off me,” growled McCready.

Albert sat up on his knees then brought the full force of his body down on McCready, knocking the stuffing out of him and producing from him a loud grunt.

“Enough! Enough!” snarled McCready. “I’ll leave the boy alane.”

“Just see that you do,” said Albert. “We’ll being watching you and your mates.”

He climbed off McCready’s chest and Jacob released McCready’s legs.

“Take care of your needs yourself,” said Albert as McCready crawled out of the bunk, purposely knocking into Jacob as he did so.

At that moment there was a noise at the hatch at the top of the steps.

“Redcoats!” someone whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

The men hurried back to their bunks and by the time the light of the lantern found them, they were all, as far as the redcoat could make out, peacefully asleep. Nevertheless, he waited by the gate for a good many minutes before he decided all was well enough to return above deck.

Jacob’s mind turned to Peter. Where are you? he wondered. In the infirmary or in the stocks? He doubted Peter would be in the stocks. Peter had been sentenced to six hours in the stocks, and it was unlikely the redcoats would return him to the prison deck in the dead of night. And if he was still in the infirmary, Jacob hoped he was healing well, and that the wounds on his back weren’t too horrific.

The following morning, he was roused from dreams of England by the activity around him.

“Come on, lazybones,” said Albert.

Jacob rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“You feeling better?” asked Albert.

Jacob took a moment to realise what the man was referring to.

He nodded. “Yes. Thanks to you. I was glad of the help.”

Jacob crawled to the end of his bunk as two redcoats came down the steps. One of them unlocked the gate while the other kept watch.

“Come on, you layabouts,” said the redcoat holding the gate. “I haven’t got all day.”

The men filed out of the cell and up the steps.

Jacob was about to put his foot on the bottom step when he heard one of the redcoats say, “You.”

He turned around and was relieved to see the redcoat was pointing to the man behind him.

“Wait down here for the bucket and mop.”

The men had to take it in turns to mop the cell. Jacob had done it three times so far. It wasn’t a difficult task. The worst of it was the fact the person doing it only got to spend a fraction of the time the others had above deck, in the sun. The job no-one wanted was emptying the toilet bucket. It took a deep breath and a strong stomach to complete that task without retching.

Jacob continued up the steps, squinting against the bright sunlight as he emerged from the prison deck. Once his eyes had become accustomed to the light, the fresh sea air and bright blue skies began to work their magic. Jacob felt lighter, and his soul rejoiced at the sense of freedom those few minutes above deck created. He inhaled deeply, drawing the clean air into his lungs.

“Lift your feet. Look lively,” shouted the overseer.

Jacob immediately turned his attention to the stocks and found them empty. His heart sank when he considered some of the reasons why that might be.

Once the men had assembled in a group, they were instructed to remove their clothes. A crack of the whip provided all the necessary incentive for the men to do it as quickly as possible. When Jacob was completely naked, he bundled up his clothes and left them in a small pile by the centre mast. He joined the others near the port side of the ship and as soon as the crew began throwing buckets of water over the men, he began to scrub. It was a hurried affair. The crew had little patience and would soon grow tired of filling the buckets with water and throwing it over a group of filthy convicts.

Despite the rapidity with which the men had to bathe, there was something exciting about being naked on deck with the others. He couldn’t explain it and often wondered why this should be, especially when the group included men like McCready. But as they washed themselves, they would knock into each other. Bending down to wash his legs and feet often meant his bare buttocks came into contact with another man’s buttocks, or even his c**k. Furthermore, it was glaringly obvious he wasn’t the only one aroused by the situation. Some of the men became erect as they washed, their hard c***s bouncing around as they moved. On rare occasions, Jacob had even seen one or two of the redcoats showing signs of arousal.

After they’d washed themselves, they were able to wash their clothes. They used the same buckets as the crew had used to douse them with water, though because there were more men than buckets, they had to take it in turns to lower the buckets overboard, fill them with sea water and lift them back up again. Using a bar of soap, they each had a few minutes to wash their garments. While they were drying, they ate their breakfast, squatting naked in a group. It was a common occurrence for someone to be goosed while they ate. There was nothing s****l in it, but a finger on the exposed flesh of the arsehole always created a gasp and a stumble.

“What do you think’s happened to Peter?” Jacob asked Collum.

Collum checked for redcoats before he replied.

“Who can say? That whip can cut a man up pretty good. Might take him a couple of days to recover.”

A redcoat strolled towards them so they busied themselves with the business of finishing their gruel.

After breakfast they washed their bowls and spoons then collected their clothes, which were stiff from a combination of salt water and sun.

“Could just about row back to Ireland on these,” Collum whispered.

Jacob laughed and began dressing. After he’d finished, he picked up his bowl and spoon, and was awaiting the order to return below decks when he noticed the door to the infirmary open. Collins, followed by Peter and one of the redcoats, stepped onto the deck. His heartbeat quickened when he saw Peter and he beamed with joy when Peter winked at him. If he winked, he was almost certainly in good spirits.

He returned the wink then followed the others below decks. In six hours Peter would be back and that knowledge meant Jacob was happier than he could remember being since the Poseidon had left England.

The cell didn’t smell as bad as it usually did after it had been cleaned. The wood absorbed a good deal of stink and no amount of scrubbing would remove it entirely, but at least the aroma of urine and faeces, along with the constant mouldy smell of dampness, wasn’t anywhere near as putrid as it usually was. It was also surprising what a shower and some clean clothes did for the spirit. It didn’t bother him a jot that Collins was glowering at him from across the way. His mates had obviously told him what had taken place while he was in the infirmary. Jacob knew they’d never be friends, nor did he want them to be, but he could rest easy knowing he not only had Peter to help him out, but also a number of the other men.

Peter was returned to the cell after lunch, along with half a dozen men who’d been taken above deck to swab it.

“It’s good to have you back,” said Jacob, wrapping his arms around Peter.

Peter grimaced. “Steady, lad. Still a bit tender.”

Jacob gasped and quickly removed his arms. “Damn. I’m sorry, I forgot. Did I hurt you?”

Peter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He leaned in closer and whispered in Jacob’s ear. “I’ve been looking forward to feeling your arms around me.”

Jacob accompanied Peter to his bunk, which was three down from where Jacob’s bunk was. Thankfully, Collins was at the end of the cell with McCready. Both of them were looking as mean as street ruffians. When Peter noticed Collins, he stopped and glared at him, and Collins glared back. Collins snarled. Peter lunged forward.

“No!” cried Jacob, gabbing Peter’s arm. “You know what happened last time.”

“Yeah,” said Collins. “Better listen to ya girlfriend.”

“Leave him,” said Jacob. “He’s only doing it to provoke you.”

“It’s working,” Peter growled.

“Don’t let him anger you so.” He glanced back at Collins and McCready. “Nobody cares what they do or say anyway.”

Peter eased himself down onto the end of his bunk, wincing.

“Is it bad?” asked Jacob. “The pain?”

“Bad enough,” Peter replied, moving from one buttock to the other to get comfortable. “But not as bad as it was.” He leant back on his arms, wincing again. “Come and sit beside me.”

Jacob squashed himself into the available space, extending his arm so his hand was resting on top of Peter’s.

“So tell me what’s been happening.”

Jacob laughed. “You’ve only been gone a day and a half.”

Peter c****d his head. “I know something must have happened. You’re doing your best to pretend it hasn’t. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Jacob nodded slowly. “You’re just going to get yourself worked…”

“McCready?”

Jacob nodded again. “It wasn’t too bad, though. The others helped me out, especially Albert.”

“Helped you out? What happened?”

He felt Peter remove his hand from beneath his and place it on top. He gave Jacob’s hand a little squeeze.

“Come now, Jacob. Tell me.”

“It really was nothing. McCready and a mate of his—I think it was Hill—tried to…to have me…you know? Tried to have me the way you and I…”

Peter nodded, frowning. “Go on.”

“That’s it. They tried and failed. The other men overpowered them. Albert threatened him and then everyone hurried back to bed because one of the redcoats came down.”

“So I owe Albert a thank you for looking after my lad.”

“I’ve already thanked him. Last night and again this morning.”

That night, after everyone had gone to bed and was fast asleep, Jacob was awoken by a gentle shaking. Recalling what had happened the previous night, he sat up like a shot, his hands becoming fists, ready to defend himself.

“Shhh. It’s only me,” whispered Peter, leaning over the bunk.

Jacob scrambled quietly to the foot of his bunk and the two men kissed. Jacob felt Peter pull him gently forward, but he resisted.

“No, Peter.” He leaned in closer, whispering. “I don’t want us coming together with the stench of the toilet bucket in my nostrils. Come to bed with me. If we’re really careful we can be together properly.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to crawl in next to Jacob. The other men were asleep and the night was filled with the sound of snoring and of the sea slapping against the side of the ship.

Jacob lay on his back, arms open to welcome Peter, who climbed on top.

“It’s good to have you back,” said Jacob, his voice barely audible.

They kissed for a while, tender, gentle kisses that were loving and unhurried. Peter began to grind his erection against Jacob’s, and while Jacob wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Peter, to hold him tight, he was mindful of the wounds the whip had left in its wake.

Peter slid off to one side and began to remove his clothes. “Take your clothes off,” he said. “I want to feel your naked body against mine.”

Jacob struggled out of his clothes and when Peter had finished removing his, he crawled back on top of Jacob, their bare flesh coming together. For a long while they kissed, Peter’s tongue slipping into Jacob’s mouth in the ‘French manner’ as Peter had previously explained. Unable to embrace his lover properly, Jacob reached down and cupped Peter’s firm buttocks, pulling Peter’s hips down harder against his own.

Without any warning, Jacob removed his lips from Peter’s and manoeuvred himself out from under Peter so they were lying on their sides facing each other. He kissed a small trail over Peter’s beard, down his neck and chest, to his right n****e. He sucked on the tiny nub for a moment, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, before continuing down over Peter’s hairy belly, to his thick thatch of dark pubic hair and then to his c**k. He licked the large, swollen cockhead and heard Peter muffle a moan. One of Peter’s hands come to rest on the back of his head as he took Peter’s thick erection into his mouth and began sliding his lips down to the base of the shaft. He couldn’t help making some slurping and slopping sounds as he sucked Peter’s c**k, though he doubted they were loud enough to wake anyone who was sleeping. The more he concentrated on pleasuring his lover, the less he cared about making noise. It seemed Peter felt the same way. As Jacob moved his lips faster and faster along Peter’s rigid c**k, he could hear Peter groaning quietly in the darkness.

There was no indication of how he was doing. He had no idea how close Peter was to climaxing. He was drawing his lips back towards the tip of Peter’s c**k when suddenly his mouth was filled with warm, silky liquid. He felt Peter press down on the back of his head and thrust forward with his hips until he could feel the head of Peter’s c**k at the back of his throat. He swallowed fast, barely tasting the slightly salty seed, and when Peter had finished delivering his bounty, Jacob crawled back up the bunk to kiss Peter, with traces of seed still on his lips.

“Now what about you?” whispered Peter.

Jacob rolled onto his side, facing away from Peter; his body fitting snugly into the slight curve of Peter’s body.

“Just hold me,” he said. “And stay with me while we sleep.”