guyloveshotstories
Literotica Guru
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Privateer Captain Edgar M. Allen
Age 29
Height 5’10”
Weight 140 pounds
Short brown hair and eyes with smooth, sun kissed skin. Well educated and able sailor, son of a wealthy merchant. Not married and no children
It was cold morning in Boston of August 1776. A thick layer of cloud hung over the harbor and was drizzling rain onto our heads. As I stood on the one of the docks next to my ship, the three masted merchant ship, the Dolphin, listening as the young ship rose and fell with the gentle waves, the hemp ropes stretched and the oak beams would moan with the movements as men on deck would shout orders to those on the rigging and around me dock workers would ferry barrels and boxes to and from the ships. In my hand was the Letter of Marque and Reprisal given to me by the Continental Congress permitting the Dolphin to hunt down merchant ships of King George. She would mount twelve 6-pound guns as well as four swivels and had a crew of sixty-five men: most were able seamen but also deserters from the British Navy and even a couple of escaped black men. I cared not for their past, all were fine sailors and very well disciplined, thus, they were welcomed aboard my ship.
Life of a privateer was similar to that of a pirate, in fact, the English viewed us as such and if captured we would be imprisoned and in worst cases; hanged. However what set us apart from the likes of pirates was the Dolphin was my ship and we were serving the newly formed Continental Congress whereas pirates, though a democracy, would go to wherever they pleased, hunted anything that caught their fancy, and were loyal to no flag.
I have heard many stories of the likes of Calico Jack, Blackbeard, and Captain Kidd; the scourge of the seas, but they were were long gone. It would seem the life of the pirate; the piles of gold, silver, jewels and other booty and hunting down ships and ransoming whole towns and the women; Dutch from Sinte Martin, English from Sainte Kitt, and French in Dominica and Spanish from everywhere else had died with them. Yet, despite the tempting allure of the 'free life' I was not drawn to the rather cut throat lifestyle they lived by where crew could mutiny and cast out a captain if they did not like him and I did not want to carry a title such as Captain Lowe whom tortured his captives out of cruelty. Life like that was simply barbaric.
Despite this, some viewed our profession it as a form of honorable service whereas others would refer to it as 'legalized piracy'. either way I took this position after seeing the English blockading our ports and seizing our ships. My father operated a large trade business with thirty small ships that ferried fur, cotton, timber, rice, and indigo to France and in return we received sugar, spices, and rum from French colonies in the Caribbean, but with the English blockade almost all of our ships had been seized thus with the Dolphin one of the few left I begged my father the chance to find a way to break out of the siege and find a way to fight this enemy and keep our family afloat. It took two days for him to give in. I was his only son and when mother learned of this she wished me the best of luck but would not see me off. Instead she stayed in their bedroom and wept.
There was not a personal vendetta against the English or towards King George though the sentiment in Boston was strong; crowds would gather and lynch dummies resembling he King and there were tax collectors that had been tarred and feathered for they would collect the money that would go to the King and I had been enquired many times about my sentiments but chose not to disclose them publicly. In truth the reason I chose the life of a privateer was simply to keep my family alive. Once this conflict was over I hoped to go back into trading with my father, but if we were destitude and what would become of us then? I dared not to think of it this morning as I stood on the damp docks with our purser, Mister Roberts and our sailing master, Mister Coxwain. Both were my senior but took to their positions as diligent seamen and when they greeted me showed me the books and charts showing that everything was correct for the Dolphin to depart. All of the crew were present as were the provisions and the cannon. The Dolphin had to be fitted with gun ports on the gun deck fo r them, but once that was complete we were ready to sail.
As we talked a tall, stocky, man wearing white trousers and a blue jacket and a black cocked hat sitting on long, braided blonde hair and piercing blue eyes approached us.
The way he walked; the long, deliberate stride and smug grin on half purse lips, I knew immediately whom it was; Martin Humphreys a man born into privilege in Massachusetts Bay and was seven years my senior. We had a couple years schooling together but were not friends as we hardly spoke to one another. What I did know about the man was subject of speculation and rumors. Apparently he had not lived up to the expectations of his wealthy father, a slave trader, and was cut from his heritance when his father died and several years ago he shot a man, so I had heard, in a tavern over a quarrel with a man accusing his mother of being a mattress and ran to England to escape prosecution. However, when he returned to Boston earlier this year he decided that life on the sea was better than life on land and purchased a ship. It struck me as odd as Humphreys, to my recollection, was not as experienced as I was in the sea.
He was brash and arrogant, a hard drinker with a loose mouth but, perhaps the reason he showed my no aggression may be due that I never showed him malice, thus when he saw me the man was all smiles and shook my hand, “Ah, Mister Allen,” he said looking over at the Dolphin, “I see you have decided, as myself, to take to the sea. A good choice, I dare say. It means ample chance for prize money.” As he spoke he pointed to another, much larger ship, berthed ahead of the Dolphin, “Thar be my own. The Fusillade!” his face was beaming with pride as he explained that it carried about twice the size of the Dolphin in every way from ship size to crew to armament comprising of twenty four 9-pounders an impressive vessel that was once a merchant. How a man such as Humphreys that had no money, to my memory, was able to outfit such a ship of this size was beyond me, but I dared not to question a man that unstable to say the least.
After a few minutes of exchange Humphreys wished me good luck and said he was going to proceed to the ample hunting grounds of the Caribbean and after tipping his hat boarded his ship.
When he left I felt a sense of dread as the Fusillade departed ahead of us that something terrible would happen and that ship, and Humphreys would be responsible.
(I am looking for a woman to take part in this. If you are interested send me a private message and we will go over roles as with this being rather open ended allows for many possible roles; such as a female privateer, a victim of Humphreys, a governour's daughter, and so forth, or if you’re curious about anything else go ahead and send a message and I will answer.)
Age 29
Height 5’10”
Weight 140 pounds
Short brown hair and eyes with smooth, sun kissed skin. Well educated and able sailor, son of a wealthy merchant. Not married and no children
It was cold morning in Boston of August 1776. A thick layer of cloud hung over the harbor and was drizzling rain onto our heads. As I stood on the one of the docks next to my ship, the three masted merchant ship, the Dolphin, listening as the young ship rose and fell with the gentle waves, the hemp ropes stretched and the oak beams would moan with the movements as men on deck would shout orders to those on the rigging and around me dock workers would ferry barrels and boxes to and from the ships. In my hand was the Letter of Marque and Reprisal given to me by the Continental Congress permitting the Dolphin to hunt down merchant ships of King George. She would mount twelve 6-pound guns as well as four swivels and had a crew of sixty-five men: most were able seamen but also deserters from the British Navy and even a couple of escaped black men. I cared not for their past, all were fine sailors and very well disciplined, thus, they were welcomed aboard my ship.
Life of a privateer was similar to that of a pirate, in fact, the English viewed us as such and if captured we would be imprisoned and in worst cases; hanged. However what set us apart from the likes of pirates was the Dolphin was my ship and we were serving the newly formed Continental Congress whereas pirates, though a democracy, would go to wherever they pleased, hunted anything that caught their fancy, and were loyal to no flag.
I have heard many stories of the likes of Calico Jack, Blackbeard, and Captain Kidd; the scourge of the seas, but they were were long gone. It would seem the life of the pirate; the piles of gold, silver, jewels and other booty and hunting down ships and ransoming whole towns and the women; Dutch from Sinte Martin, English from Sainte Kitt, and French in Dominica and Spanish from everywhere else had died with them. Yet, despite the tempting allure of the 'free life' I was not drawn to the rather cut throat lifestyle they lived by where crew could mutiny and cast out a captain if they did not like him and I did not want to carry a title such as Captain Lowe whom tortured his captives out of cruelty. Life like that was simply barbaric.
Despite this, some viewed our profession it as a form of honorable service whereas others would refer to it as 'legalized piracy'. either way I took this position after seeing the English blockading our ports and seizing our ships. My father operated a large trade business with thirty small ships that ferried fur, cotton, timber, rice, and indigo to France and in return we received sugar, spices, and rum from French colonies in the Caribbean, but with the English blockade almost all of our ships had been seized thus with the Dolphin one of the few left I begged my father the chance to find a way to break out of the siege and find a way to fight this enemy and keep our family afloat. It took two days for him to give in. I was his only son and when mother learned of this she wished me the best of luck but would not see me off. Instead she stayed in their bedroom and wept.
There was not a personal vendetta against the English or towards King George though the sentiment in Boston was strong; crowds would gather and lynch dummies resembling he King and there were tax collectors that had been tarred and feathered for they would collect the money that would go to the King and I had been enquired many times about my sentiments but chose not to disclose them publicly. In truth the reason I chose the life of a privateer was simply to keep my family alive. Once this conflict was over I hoped to go back into trading with my father, but if we were destitude and what would become of us then? I dared not to think of it this morning as I stood on the damp docks with our purser, Mister Roberts and our sailing master, Mister Coxwain. Both were my senior but took to their positions as diligent seamen and when they greeted me showed me the books and charts showing that everything was correct for the Dolphin to depart. All of the crew were present as were the provisions and the cannon. The Dolphin had to be fitted with gun ports on the gun deck fo r them, but once that was complete we were ready to sail.
As we talked a tall, stocky, man wearing white trousers and a blue jacket and a black cocked hat sitting on long, braided blonde hair and piercing blue eyes approached us.
The way he walked; the long, deliberate stride and smug grin on half purse lips, I knew immediately whom it was; Martin Humphreys a man born into privilege in Massachusetts Bay and was seven years my senior. We had a couple years schooling together but were not friends as we hardly spoke to one another. What I did know about the man was subject of speculation and rumors. Apparently he had not lived up to the expectations of his wealthy father, a slave trader, and was cut from his heritance when his father died and several years ago he shot a man, so I had heard, in a tavern over a quarrel with a man accusing his mother of being a mattress and ran to England to escape prosecution. However, when he returned to Boston earlier this year he decided that life on the sea was better than life on land and purchased a ship. It struck me as odd as Humphreys, to my recollection, was not as experienced as I was in the sea.
He was brash and arrogant, a hard drinker with a loose mouth but, perhaps the reason he showed my no aggression may be due that I never showed him malice, thus when he saw me the man was all smiles and shook my hand, “Ah, Mister Allen,” he said looking over at the Dolphin, “I see you have decided, as myself, to take to the sea. A good choice, I dare say. It means ample chance for prize money.” As he spoke he pointed to another, much larger ship, berthed ahead of the Dolphin, “Thar be my own. The Fusillade!” his face was beaming with pride as he explained that it carried about twice the size of the Dolphin in every way from ship size to crew to armament comprising of twenty four 9-pounders an impressive vessel that was once a merchant. How a man such as Humphreys that had no money, to my memory, was able to outfit such a ship of this size was beyond me, but I dared not to question a man that unstable to say the least.
After a few minutes of exchange Humphreys wished me good luck and said he was going to proceed to the ample hunting grounds of the Caribbean and after tipping his hat boarded his ship.
When he left I felt a sense of dread as the Fusillade departed ahead of us that something terrible would happen and that ship, and Humphreys would be responsible.
(I am looking for a woman to take part in this. If you are interested send me a private message and we will go over roles as with this being rather open ended allows for many possible roles; such as a female privateer, a victim of Humphreys, a governour's daughter, and so forth, or if you’re curious about anything else go ahead and send a message and I will answer.)
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