Nils explores alone

The strong box was flung open early in the morning and some gold silver and bronze coins from their last trading stop were carefully counted out by the Quartermaster under the watchful gaze of Captain Emily.

A handful of men from the day watch remained on board to guard the ship, whilst the remainder filed past the Captain and Quartermaster to collect their share. Each one of the burly crew members gratefully received his share and respectfully tugged his forelock to Captain Emily. Nils, as the most junior member of the crew, nervously brought up the rear.

Finally he reached the front of the queue and Captain Emily stood before him. Nils drew in his breath as he shyly regarded his Captain. Her hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense bow and her generous breasts thrust against the silky cloth of her tight blouse. Her breeches were belted firmly at the waist, emphasising her figure further. Also at her waist hung a wide-brimmed plumed hat that she would don later, to ward off the noonday sun, and a sharp cutlass, as a warning to any who would underestimate her. A pair of high boots completed the picture.

A few coins dropped into Nils’ hand and he mumbled a grateful “Thank ‘ee, Cap’n,” as had each of his shipmates before him. But his eyes regarded her breasts rather than her face.

Captain Emily reached forward and playfully ruffled his hair, as she had often seen the men do. “Don’t spend it all on rum and whores, lad,” she advised, know full well that was exactly what he would do.

Nils’ face reddened and he stumbled down the gang plank. In truth, tussling his hair like that sent mixed messages to him. The young man had gone to sea because he thought it would make a man of him and get him his share of women. So, in one respect, he was glad of the attention from his busty and glamorous captain. On the other hand, having his hair ruffled by the crew was often a prelude to one or more of them lowering his breeches and making a swift port call between his buttocks.

It made no difference that any one of them would rather have had a willing wench than the cabin boy’s arse. One old sea dog had repeatedly called out Captain Emily’s name whilst buggering the handsome eighteen year old. So loudly, in fact, that the captain herself had walked in on them, curious to know what he was shouting about.

A coarse whistle broke into Nils’ reverie and he looked up to discern its source. A number of women had come down to the quay and were watching the sailors with interest. However, these were no dockland whores, but fine ladies who had come to cast their eyes over the burly seamen, whilst their pallid husbands and weak fathers busied themselves with their accountants. Two of the young women regarded Nils with playful eyes and it was they, he surmised, who had whistled. Nils felt himself hardening in his breeches in anticipation and he grinned at them somewhat foolishly. They said something in a language that he did not understand before bursting into fits of giggles.

Nils would have liked to have approached them, but his humility held him back. ‘What would two high-born young ladies want with a common cabin boy?’ he reasoned – which perhaps shows how naïve he was.

But encouraged by their interest, the handsome young man swaggered towards the town. Although, given that he was still feeling somewhat self conscious, it really was more of a waddle than a swagger.

In the bustling market area, just off of the quay, Nils found plenty of interest from more lower born ladies. In fact it really was a case of from the sublime to the ridiculous as one pox ridden doxy grasped his firm young manhood and offered to take him into her experienced mouth there and then for just a few coins. The buxom dark haired slut was falling out of her ragged dress and young Nils was growing hard again looking down her cleavage and being manhandled by her grasping fingers. After so many months at sea, providing relief for his shipmates, but having none of his own except that provided by his right hand, Nils was fully prepared to part with some of his coins in exchange for services of her mouth. Even the glistening sore on her top lip that wept pus as her mouth opened didn’t give him pause for thought.

At that moment though, the young man’s acute hearing discerned the sound of a woman’s cry a few streets away. Instantly, he was alert, pushing the trollop away.

As he considered whether to investigate the sound, he also became aware of a group of his shipmates already drinking outside a local tavern. They called him over and invited him to join them and a few lady friends. Nils felt confused. He tried to explain about the cry that he had heard, but the hard bitten seamen only laughed.

“Ye can check it out if ye like, laddie,” said one, “but like as not ye’ll get yer throat cut if ye do.”

“Do you think it’s a trap then?” asked Nils.

“The women of Port Ruby are a wanton lot,” the old sailor advised him. “The only reason one of them’d scream is if they were luring a man to his , or riding around on his prick. Now forget all about it lad and come and have a drink with us.”

Nils wasn’t sure. He knew he would get no help from his shipmates, but even so that cry had sounded genuine. On the other hand, it was none of his business and he maybe he should join his compatriots for a spot of carousing. Or perhaps he should get an easy lay from the whores that had so recently accosted him. He might even stand a chance with those fine ladies down by the quay.

Nils mind reeled with the possibilities that Port Ruby offered.