Black Leopard (closed for Leongreybeard and Artimodorus)

"If she was a ship of the line, there would be four more waiting just over the horizon. But a ship of the line would never turn tail and run like that. They would have fought to the last man, sending signals to the reinforcements. No, they are gone, for good. Sir Roger was aboard, hoping to gloat at my defeat. He is not one to risk his life. There will be tales in the inn tonight about how they whipped us and sent us running for our lives. And we won't hear of him again. Unless by chance. Come Thom, the men have broken out the rum."

Atticus led the victory cheer, mug of rum high in the air. There was music from a fiddle, the men danced and drank, all but Jason and two who looked to be from Africa, but wore odd looking hats and full black fearsome beards. Their swords were different too, short, and curved. One threw a thin silk cloth in the air and sliced it in two, laughing about how his blade had not even been dulled by the battle.

A big blond man screamed then laughed as another poured rum on the hole left by a big wood splinter that had been pulled from his thigh. Gritting his teeth he charred the skin with a hot iron to cauterize the wound. Then, limping, laughed with the others, and drank more than most. He was the first to fall asleep. "That is Eric," whispered Atticus, "He believes the only way to heaven is to die in battle."

Queeb, from the high crow's nest called down, 'All clear' from time to time. Soon the coast of Hispaniola was in sight. Atticus showed Thom how to scan the shore with his glass to look for smoke. They soon identified a large expanse with no smoke, and thus uninhabited for the moment at least. "Jason! Make for Snake's Head cove. We make repairs and careen her as best we can."

Atticus hugged Thom to his side, and kissed the top of her head. "How do those new boots fit then?"

The cheers and laughter were intoxicating as she sat beside Jason watching the men celebrate. With a chuckle she sipped at her own mug of rum, the spices burning her throat but rejuvenating her excitement from the battle. She watched in near silence, taking in the different men and committing their faces to memory. It was the first time she had been truly among the men. Pistol in her trousers and sword at her hip she felt a surge of kinship between them all.

A large blond called out before laughing and taking rum. She smiled as he limped around, jeering to the others as a gentle breath warmed her ear. Turning to look up at him she chuckled. "I believe they call it Valhalla. My da used to tell me stories about men like him. Warriors sent to conquer the seas and anything in between." She called back against the noise.

She followed him along the ship, the wind whipping the hair she had released from the tight bun as the night had gone on. Taking hold of his glass she watched, learning as he instructed before they finally made way towards their destination. She cool air stuck to her skin, causing a chill when his skin touched hers. His arm pulled her tight against his side, her head seeming to find his shoulder without much effort. Eyes closing she couldn't stifle the smile that fought the edges of her mouth as his own came to press against her crown.

Forcing herself to awaken from the moment she had stolen away in she glanced down to the scuffed boots on her feet. "A slight bit on the big side I say but shall make due for now. They are a relief for my bare feet on those ropes." She smiled glancing up at him. "Thank you." Standing on her toes she tugged lightly on the front of his shirt "I shall pay you for them when the sun rises in our cabin." It was a whisper against his lips, but the sound of foot steps on deck pulled her from him. Releasing his shirt and flat-footed once more she stared out at the water behind them.

"I don't, truly understand why Sir Roger went through such lengths." Fingers trailing the wood of the railing she leaned forward as if the distance would allow her to still see the ship once more. The cool breeze quickly sent her back onto the deck her arms crossing to fight off the chill. "Why make such an effort when there is nothing but boasting to be had." Turning to rest herself against the railing she stared up at him. "Your death would gain him nothing. He gave me up, and although we may have goods and profits on board, nothing large enough to allow him gain. Not with the inheritance he is gaining in a few months time." Shaking her head she smiled up at him through wind swept curls.

"You men make ne'er a lick o'sense." She teased with a laugh. On the horizon she could see the faint rays of morning. They had fought part of the night and spent the rest celebrating. Although the air was cool she couldn't help but find wonder in every moment she spent on the seas. She soon grew silent, her attention on the waves moving along the horizon as the sun began to rise though, she wasn't oblivious to the feel of his gaze resting on her in the silence.

As they approached the lagoon, Atticus called out, "Queeb!"

"Queeb, take Thom aloft to the main mast crow's nest. Teach her how to see the shallow water and to direct the helm to steer us in safely."

"Thom, you will work with Queeb a few times on this. The entire safety of the ship depends on the sightings you make from aloft as we enter shallow areas. You will learn how the colours change, and how they look in different weather, different lighting. It's not done in an hour or so. There is much to know. How to tell sand from coral. How the moonlight makes false images And when you know you can not see enough, and to tell the crew to stand off until the light is better."

"So, aloft with you."

The main crow's nest was quite a bit higher. And in the waves moved side to side as the ship heeled and recovered her balance. Queeb gave the first lessons in sighting depths, and soon enough they were in a quiet lagoon, forest all around them on the shore. The men on the bow dropped lead lines until the depth was good to anchor in. Men dove overboard with tools to chip off what barnacles they could. Others set about repairing the damage from the battle. A few went to shore to cut wood for repairs, and to replenish the on board stock of timber. Atticus retired to his cabin, studying charts and thinking about what do do next. He still had a full crew that expected plunder. Expected time ashore to enjoy their profits.

There was a knock, then Thom's voice. "Come in, come in. No need for that, this is your cabin now too." Then he saw Queeb behind. "Ah, yes, quite right."

Queeb reported her to be an excellent student, and very comfortable aloft. "Like a cat she is." Smiling he turned and left.

Once inside with the door closed, Atticus wrapped his arms around her, and held her close. Enjoyed the feel of her body on his. Kissed her forehead.

"Now, swordplay!"

Armed again with his wooden sword he tossed her his. "Try your best. Don't hold back. When you finally manage to nick me, then we can move on to learning how to restrain your moves, how to show an opponent you can kill them, but choose not to, for the moment."

He tried to knock her off balance as before but this time she was steady and didn't fall for his trick. Cautious yet aggressive. Atticus easily parried her thrusts, but once or twice felt a breeze as her lunges passed close to his neck.

"Excellent. Time for you to choose a sword from the ones we confiscated."

Thom took her time with Queeb, spending the time in the nest to get accustomed to the teetering of the mast and to ask as many questions as came to mind. Queeb was a wonderful teacher, explaining everything to her in detail before moving on. Many times she asked him to repeat for memory or to point out things she saw in the water. Her eyes rarely left the blue glass beneath and before she knew it, Queeb was guiding her back down.

Once to the cabin she knocked, stepping in with Queeb her cheeks pink as he complimented her. She bid him goodbye, the door closing with a small click before strong arms encircled her once more. She inhaled slowly, her arms wrapping around him in return at the feel of his lips pressed against her forehead.

"I say, a lass could become bratty with such spoils." She teased taking up her wooden sword. Taking up her stance she grinned when he attempted the same trick as before. "I shan't be had twice." She cooed, lunging forward only to be parried. She refused to give up and as one last thrust came quite close she couldn't help the smile that spread as he praised her.

"I get pick of any I want?" She asked glancing to the many that laid neatly on his desk. Moving over she touched each, lifting them in turn to see the feel and weight of them. She took her time, seeing which would be easiest to hold and not to long for her height. It took her a few moments before she finally picked up a spadroon for the third time. Turning she held it out, it's point aligned with her arm. "I say, I believe I have found my sword."

She placed it's sheath on with her things before clearing his desk. "Now be your turn. Time to do some writing and reading. Have you looked over the alphabet?" She asked opening up the parchment they had been working on. "I'd like you to write them once more in turn. Memorize the way they look, the way they sound and feel as you speak them. These letters are like your haul. The weight of your knowledge and each word you shall learn from here on out depends on it's strength, without it everything crumbles." She smiled taking a seat.

Atticus put his chin on his hands, middle fingers closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Twice.

With the pencil he began to copy the letters. Trying hard to remember the names of them. A few were easy to recognize, N, S, E, W, D, R - all these and more he knew from charts but he could only recall the word they represented. Wait! N - north - 'EN' Aha! Hmm, not for W, whatever that letter was, it wasn't the first part of the sound of 'west' Draft and rocks though - that worked.

At that moment he realized his tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth as he tried to draw the letters accurately. Like a schoolboy. His memory flashed back to the teacher standing over him, rapping his knuckles with a cane when he made a mistake. Thom looked impassive, watching him. He felt very uncomfortable. This would not be easy.

Impulsively he grabbed a short length of rope from the drawer of his chart table, Rapidly he tied a bowline in it. Tossed it to her. "There. Practice that knot while I do these."

Then he worked solidly until the ship's bell announced the evening meal. By then he had drawn every letter from memory, without looking at the originals she had drawn. "There. I've got them all. But some of the names I'm not sure of. I have to practice that. Let's see your knot."

She watched in silence, her mind mainly on the task of helping him. It was important he knew the lets for until her knew them it would be impossible to teach him how to sound out words to read or write. His tongue stuck out from concentration and his brow furrowed. She had to stifle the smile peaking at the edges of her lips. She found his look rather becoming as he had been teaching her for so long. She was such in thought his movement for the rope startled her slightly. "w... What." She muttered taking the rope.

She took a moment to stare between him and the rope before taking a seat. Her fingers ran over the knot, running it over and over to follow the line. A loop to start, and then another loop to pass back. She untied the know before beginning her hand at recreation. It took her four good tries and a lot of Undoing wrong knots before she was able to tie it without hesitation. By then the rope looked worse for wear.

The dinner bell sounded and she turned to him with a smile. She handed him the know before looking over his paper. "Very good, we'll go over names and sounds tomorrow before going over how to sounds out words but you are doing well. Your penmanship will grew more steady as we proceed." Another smile and a sheepish look at the rope she stood. "I am mush more adept at learning sword play than knots I admit."

"Hmm, take more care when you draw it up. Once each turn is properly in place, it is secure. And no matter the load, it is easy to untie, when you know the trick. Bend it back and forth like this, and then you can free it. Practice it with your eyes closed. Later I'll get you a longer length and you can practice tying it around your waist. When you go overboard and someone throws you a line, its the knot you use."

They walked together, close, but not quite touching. Took their plates to the afterdeck where they sat on a chest, just enjoying the view over the water, the waves breaking just offshore, the sound of birds in the forest. The water in the lagoon was crystal clear. The men had maneuvered the ship to shallow water and the keel was gently bumping in the sand. Ropes were dragging it into the shallows where they could easily dive and scrape the barnacles off. Atticus explained this was to ensure they had lots of speed when needed. He caressed where she sat and whispered in her ear "Bottoms are very important."

She gave a small nod, her mind shifting to what would happen if she did go overboard. She knew she could tread water with the best of them but in the hard current of the ocean she wasn't sure. Following him up she glanced to the setting sun. With a smile she was happy to take her seat besides him on a chest.

She listened, eating slowly while he spoke. Feeling his hand against her bottom she smiled. "Oh is it now?" She asked playfully, leaning up to whisper back. "How important are they." She cooed gently. She could hear some men scraping the bottom of the boat before she glanced to the horizon again. "I never knew what I was missing on shore. I'm not sure I could ever go back now. To not see this view every day." She cooed.

Atticus took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Looker her up and down slowly. "This is the view I'll not do without. Come"

He led her back to the cabin, his meal half eaten, left at the rail. Inside he barred the door, and began to slowly undress her, carefully folding her clothes as he removed them. Every time she protested - "Shhhhhhh my love"

Scooped her naked body up in his arms and kissing to keep her quiet, laid her on her back on the bed. With light cord he tied her wrists so her arms were wide spread over her head. Every protest was met with a soft kiss. Then the ankles to spread her thighs wide. More kisses, soft and gentle on her lips. Both sets. Nuzzled her soft curls. Two more restraints, one across her shoulders anther across her hips. Each protest was met with a kiss and a "Shhhhhh"

He stripped himself naked. The fading sun through the aft cabin light put deep shadows on his muscles. Scars were obvious. More obvious was his erection.

Atticus positioned himself over her, supporting his weight on his knuckles and toes. Only one part of his body touched her. The head of his cock burrowed into her damp folds. Finally gained entrance. Exquisitely slowly he stroked down into her, looking into her eyes. Never even so far as to have their pubes meet. His thickness pulled her folds together, Her clit bobbed, but was never touched.

"This is the view I'll not do without."

He said it as if the whole world knew except her. The statement took her back as he walked her slowly to their cabin. He worked slowly, carefully as if he were savoring every movement as he undressed her. Her confused questions and naive understanding told her it was to early. They couldn't possibly be going to bed and it was in bad taste to be doing such things in the low hanging suns light. A simply 'sshh' was all she received to each protest and question.

Soon enough he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing, kissing her with the same tenderness he had used to undress her. Her mind was turning, he was acting different from the other times. Laying her down he took each wrist, binding it above her head at each corner. Her heart began to race. What was he doing? Why was he binding her? What were his intentions? But each attempt was met with another gentle kiss and a 'ssh'. By the time he was finished she was bound fully, spread to him completely. He took the time to stare at her as he undressed. Her own gaze raked over him as she hadn't done fully. He truly was the mark of a man. His muscles, casting shadows along his body in the setting sun and the scars, each one she itched to run her fingers over.

Leaning over her she stared up into his eyes. He wasn't touching her, not truly at least. Instead he held himself above her, his erection pressing into her damp folds. The anticipation told her that this was exactly what he had intended. He pressed forward at a pace that made her whine with need. Once buried within her, still being sure not to touch her beyond their connection he withdrew at the same agonizing rate.

Her body, attempting to urge him on, to feel him against her pulled at the bindings, her hips trying desperately to press up into him. Her clit, throbbing now ached for attention causing the next thrust forward to force a moan to slip past her lip before moaning his name. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, but he simply stared at her.

"Atticus...please, I need you." She whispered, puling at her binding against before another confused wave of pleasure rippled through her as he continued. She didn't understand the pleasure she was receiving but part of her wanted more while the other part was enjoying such an experience that it hoped it when on.

Atticus continued with slow determined movements, simply sliding his shaft in until their curls started to meld, but each time stopped before any other parts of their bodies touched. Then withdrew, excruciatingly slowly until the ridge was at her entrance. And repeat. And repeat.

Sometimes it seemed she was about to climax. Then he stopped and held still. Similarly when he approached the point of no return he stopped and waited. Then resumed.

Then it happened. Just as he stopped moving to blunt his sensations, her muscles clenched, no = vibrated. Though he was not moving her incessant squeezes pushed him higher and higher. Every nerve in his body tingled. His girth pulsed and a gush shot into her. That seemed to trigger her, He held his body perfectly still, all attention focused on the sensations of the climax. Her tunnel repeatedly squeezed him. Each squeeze was rewarded with another jet of seed, his member flexing thicker with each pump.

When at last it all quieted, he withdrew, slippery and shiny. With his stiletto he slit her bindings. She was laying back, seemingly spent.

Still hard, he re-entered her. This time eased by the lubrication of their coupling. His entire body stretched out on her, partly supported by his elbows so she could breathe.

With gentle almost imperceptible movements his thrusts resumed.

It was wanton bliss that engulfed her senses. Her body seemingly riding wave after wave of desire and need. It was then that he slipped from her. Her hooded gaze following his movements as he cut her loose. She had expected sleep, was ready for him to crawl into the bed with her to fall into darkness together but instead he took her once more. The unexpectedness of his actions caught her off guard, causing a moaned gasp to part her lips.

Her arms came to encircle him, her nails running light lines along his back while her lips found his. She could feel she small smile as it pulled on his lips. They worked together, a tumbling pair of bodies tied together with nothing but lust and need keeping them writhing.

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She fell into bed, her body spent and her eyes lidded. Beside her lay Atticus, his body warm and still. With a small smile she laid close to him, her head resting against his shoulder. As if on instinct his sleeping form shifted to take her close. A murmured ' good morning ' was all she got before his heavy breathing resumed. Chuckling she nuzzled into him, nose in the crook of his neck. The early morning light beginning to shine through the paneled windows at the back of the cabin.

He had finished night duty and hour before her as she had bid him good sleep while waiting for Queeb to take her spot in the nest. They had expected a storm that night, only to find the sky had tricked them. A simple nights spray and a Southern breeze had been the only thing to meet them all night. She had spent most of it looking off for any odd placed waves that would tip them to much.

Over the last month she had taken on more responsibility for the nest, having learned a fair amount of the swordplay Atticus had intended he had cut her training down to once a week. Mean while his reading had improved enough to allow as needed teaching as he worked on books she had on hand. Currently on their way to an outpost off the West Indies to stock up and regroup she had been learning the languages they would use to trade.

It wasn't until late afternoon that either of them began to move. Feeling him shift beneath her she began to move herself. Rubbing an eye she looked up at him. With a small smile she pressed her lips to his throat. "Tis aft noon." She whispered. "We slept to long" It was a tease as her fingers ran along his bare chest.

Atticus touched her nipple with the tip of his index finger. Circled it. Admired the way it perked to his touch. And was about to lean over to kiss his lips, enjoy the softness. He could never get enough of touching her. A tap at the door interrupted them.

Jason's voice "Capn, Spanish lugger on the horizon. She looks heavy laden, Making for the current to take her north and back to Spain. Alone."

Hastily he dressed, sword, pistol in his belt. Still he was not confident that 'frenchy' was the only problem on his ship. But Jason was alone.

Calling back, "Thom, look lively there, aloft, see what you can see for us." They had learned her eyes were the best onboard for distance."

"Dress us English Jason. With England at war with Spain, they may surrender without a fight."

Glancing up at the wind, the direction of the vague blob on the horizon, he quickly called a change of course, not directly at the lugger, but some distance ahead of her. Thom ran up, ready to climb the rigging,

"Jason, Thom, look, out there, she must be running dead downwind. At that point of sail we are not much quicker, if at all. She looks longer than us, But if we take a broad reach we can get ahead of her tonight when she cant see us, then just wait for her. She can't go to wind like we can. She will be trapped."

"Get aloft you two - tell me what you can make of her. It may be a trap. Keep that in mind."

His hands were warmer than her own skin, causing goosebumps to meet his touch. She smiled, her own hands running along the lines of his shoulders. A knock on the door brought a groan of frustration past her lips before he was up. Jumping up herself she pulled on her clothes, grabbing her own pistol, spadroon and a small stiletto in her boot she followed him up.

She listened, her eyes already locked on the small bobbing dot on the horizon. Pulling her gaze from the boat she turned to look up at Atticus. With a nod she made her way up to the mast nest. She glanced around, getting her barrings and checking the waves before taking sights on the vessel. She was silent, her eyes scanning the waves again. A small smile touched her lips before she called out again.

"Capt'n! She coming up on some heavy waves on the starboard side. Look to be enough to slow 'er down. They will have to go leeward to compensate. If we take the windward and make haste we can close the distance just as the sun is falling. She rocking already from the waves sir! She's definitely heavy. Those waves are going to slow her!" One hand on the rigging and one on the side of the nest she glanced down to him with a grin before turning back to her charge.

The men realized a battle was in the offing. They spent the hours that passed sharpening swords and knives. Checking and rechecking the load in their pistols. The canon were all made ready, the pair in the bow and the pair in the stern kept hidden. Port and starboard canon ports were open, black muzzles protruded menacingly. St. George's Cross flew proclaiming them to be an English warship, albeit a small one.

On Gitana, Sir Roger's men were doing much the same. Except all their canon ports were closed. They were dragging warps to keep them slow, bilges flooded to keep low in the water, imitating a cargo ship laden with gold and silver. They were flying the Cross of Burgundy, also a red cross on a white background, but diagonal rather than horizontal and vertical. In fact she was Spanish, repurposed after being captured.

Jason and Atticus discussed strategy. Jason wanted a direct attack, canon roaring. Atticus argued the Spanish sailors should be given a chance to surrender before lives were risked. Jason insisted they guard against a trap by Sir Roger, he was convinced the humiliation would not go unanswered. Finally they compromised, they would cross the course of the Spaniard well upwind, then turn and run straight down on them.

Thom hadn't moved, hadn't allowed her gaze nor her concentration to leave the ship they were following. She could hear the soft rumbling below deck as everyone prepared to the imminent battle. It would be her first true fight, first chance to prove her worth on the ship. Her stomach lurched. The urge to heave over the side was calmed only by the gentle breeze the wiped her loose hair. She had to keep herself together.

Her gaze never left the ship. She had to keep her mind focused, never leave the ship. Something was wrong. They had gained headway, would gain the upper hand. A few more naughts to go. A few more hours til the sun was completely set but, something didn't seem right. Her eyes focused on the men she could see on the upper deck of the Spanish vessel...if there were any. She squinted her eyes for a moment before blinking back her disbelief. There weren't any head. She should be able to see movement on the upper deck just as she could see the lights lit below in the hull. Her stomach lurched again. There weren't any lights above deck. Why wouldn't they have any candles lit? Her nails dug into the basket as she leaned over the edge slightly. She had never seen their own ship without some kind of life topside. It just wasn't done, especially this early in the evening. The sun was barely down.

Turning towards where Queeb was nested she knew she couldn't call out for fear of giving away their position. Instead she whistled, a mimicked bird call he had taught her to signal him in case she couldn't call out. She watched for a moment before whistling again. Once she had his attention she waved at him before pointing towards their upper deck. She knew from her lessons that she should put up fingers for the number of men aboard. Holding up her fist she stared at him before showing she was confused. She only hoped things went smoothly as she saw Queeb nod in understanding before heading down to speak with the captain if she could guess.