The Sea's Rough Magic Read online

  The Sea’s

  Rough Magic

  By

  Alicia C. Graybill

  Copyright © 2019 by Alicia C. Graybill

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2019

  ISBN 0-9000000-0-0

  Eatinrocks Publishing

  4234 St. Paul Ave.

  Lincoln, NE 68504

  Avast! This is a work of fiction from the author’s fevered mind. Any resemblance to any people (living or dead), places or events (current or defunct) is entirely coincidental. Sodomy was relatively common in life on the high seas though it was seriously disapproved of by land-lubbers in general. Matelotage was not necessarily the result of love between two men but it probably did work as marriage for some. Grab your cutlass and pistol, mate!

  Chapter 1:

  April 1712

  He remembered when he was very young—eight years or maybe a little less—his father came home and brought the stranger with him. His new captain, he called him, though the man didn’t seem much like the old captain. He was young, striking and beautiful. In fact, the man was so beautiful, Ike wondered if this man was to replace his mother. Sarah, no tremendous beauty but still pretty enough in her prime, had faded while her handsome husband was off being a sailor. Aaron Johnson was the name given for the new captain but Ike always thought it was far too plain a name for him. Hair black as the sea at night, eyes bluer than the fairest sky, the Captain could command Ike’s attention simply by breathing.

  The new captain announced that the Saucy Maid was to be off for the Caribbean and that Sarah and Ike were to be guests aboard her for the journey. Aaron’s voice at the time was light and happy. “Can’t have me best mate pinin’ fer his loved ones, can I?”

  To Ike’s great pleasure, his mother agreed. During the weeks they remained in Liverpool, restocking the ship and preparing her for the difficult journey, Ike was allowed to accompany his father and Captain Aaron nearly everywhere. He heard them tell stories of grand adventures or frightful calamities. He had his first taste of rum from Captain Aaron’s mug and his first kiss from the whore on Captain Aaron’s lap, a well-endowed blonde woman with laughing gray eyes. When they delivered him to the house every evening, he excitedly recounted everything he’d seen, heard or experienced to his mother, who smiled charitably and occasionally replied with a “How exciting!” or a “Oh, that’s not good!” as appropriate.

  But the one thing that he learned from those times that was most important to him was that he loved Captain Aaron. Not just for being a captain and not just for being beautiful, but for treating him so well. Captain Johnson never spoke to him as if he were a child but as he did the other men of his crew. He made allowances, of course, for Ike’s youth and inexperience but he spoke seriously to him when the situation called for gravity and joked with him when the time was right. Ike thought he was in heaven.

  When the time came for them to sail away from Liverpool, Ike grew sad because his mother was sad. She had to leave most of her things behind as well as her family and the little house where they lived. He couldn’t stay sad for long, though. While his father took his mother below to settle them into his cabin, Captain Johnson—who insisted Ike call him “Uncle Aaron”—had Ike help him steer the ship down the Mersey and out onto the Irish Sea. The vivid sensation of Aaron supporting him, his long-fingered, callused hands warm against the backs of Ike’s, his voice softly singing a tune about a sailor and a mermaid, made him feel safer and happier than anything he’d ever felt before. He leaned back and gazed up at the Captain. At the sensation of being stared at, Aaron met the boy’s eyes and grinned.

  “What’s on yer mind, love?”

  “Can I join your crew someday?”

  Aaron kissed the top of his head lightly and chuckled. “We’ll see, whelp. Fer now, best watch where we’re goin’, aye?”

  Ike turned his attention back to the prow of the ship, his chest puffed with pride that Captain Aaron trusted him to steer the Saucy Maid.

  One night, halfway through the voyage, Henry failed to return to the quartermaster’s cabin. At first, Sarah held her tongue. But the next night and the next he failed to return as well. When he finally came to bed after almost a week of spending his nights elsewhere, Sarah could stand it no longer.

  “So, does your captain keep his bed warmer than mine?”

  Henry sighed harshly. “It’s not like that. He asked me t’ pull some extra shifts t’ help pay fer yer passage. Ye did want t’ come t’ the New World, didn’t ye?”

  “You’re lying. I’ve seen you look at him. More important, I’ve seen him look at you, the purse proud little bum-faker. Are you absolutely sure Isaac is safe with him?” Sarah sounded angrier about the relationship between Aaron and their son than that between Henry and Aaron.

  “Of course, he is!” Henry snarled, then bit his lip as Ike stirred in the hammock strung in the corner of the room. “Aaron thinks the world of the lad. He’d never let any harm befall ‘im.”

  There was a sigh from his wife then she spoke. “Henry, if you have any regard at all for me anymore, tell me the truth. You love that man, don’t you?”

  Ike, lying awake in the hammock and listening to his parents’ tense voices, held his breath as he waited to hear his father’s answer. Finally, Henry Stern answered. “Yes, I do, as I’ve never loved anyone. I’m sorry.”

  I knew it, Ike thought, a smile spreading across his face. When he heard his father leave the cabin, he turned over gingerly in time to hear his mother sob softly into her pillow. He fell asleep, confused. Sadness at his mother’s apparent misery couldn’t entirely vanquish the love in his own heart for Captain Johnson.

  But that was years ago. Ike Stern, now 13, watched the Saucy Maid sail away with more than a touch of disappointment. He had hoped that Captain Aaron and Henry “The Lash” Stern would recognize that he was almost a man and ready to sail with them. Instead, Captain Aaron had slid an arm about his shoulders, brushed a stray lock of hair back off his face, and spoken to him with a gentle smile.

  “Not yet, darlin’. Yer mama needs ye still fer a bit. Work one o’ the local fishin’ boats until we come back. When we do, if ye’re taller’n me, then we’ll talk, savvy?”

  It had been at that moment that McSwain walked by, stopping to give Aaron a look that Ike realized meant something. Aaron squeezed him gently then swayed off in McSwain’s wake, catching up to the tall man in a few strides. Ike watched them go with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d only met Angus McSwain once or twice, but he didn’t like him.

  With a heavy sigh, Ike turned his back on the rapidly shrinking black-flagged vessel. He would find a job on a fishing boat like Aaron said. He only prayed that he’d grow tall enough to make the Captain take him with next time.

  )O(

  Chapter 2:

  Treachery

  Aaron stretched and turned his face to the sun to enjoy the heat. It was so much more pleasant than the cold, pale sunlight of the north. To be truthful, he never wanted to see England again and certainly not the soot-covered cesspool that was Liverpool. He heard the familiar boot steps and turned to see Angus climbing the ladder. He’d never known a Scotsman quite as tall as McSwain but there was no denying his heritage. Red hair with a long braided beard and piercing green eyes, Angus wasn’t handsome but there was something about him that Aaron had found fascinating at one time. He started to speak, to greet the first mate, but before he
could, Angus seized him by the waist and dragged him behind a timber. Once out of sight, McSwain kissed him hard. Aaron let it happen but found himself not as thrilled as he once was. Before the first mate could kiss him again, Aaron pushed away with a slightly annoyed expression.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He pushed away from McSwain and returned to his station at the wheel. “What if Stern should see us?”

  “What of it?” Angus laughed but kept his voice low. “No need to keep faith with a matelot, is there?”

  Aaron grimaced and called out for the starboard sails to be lowered. “Depends on the matelot. The Lash ain’t exactly the kind to share, savvy?”

  “What Stern don’t know won’t hurt him, hmm?” Angus moved closer but Aaron shrugged away.

  “Why are you invoking my name?” Henry’s voice came from a position disturbingly close to Aaron.

  Aaron shot McSwain a nasty glare then spoke casually. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with, love. ‘Twas idle speculation and naught else.”

  “Was it now?” Henry muttered then pushed himself between the Captain and the First Mate. “Where we headed? The men are in the mood for spoils.”

  Johnson sighed and consulted a scrap of parchment that he’d been puzzling over for a while. “Any particular kind, mate? Or just pretty baubles?”

  Henry chuckled. “I suspect silver, gold and feminine would hit the spot.”

  McSwain turned away and Aaron seized Henry’s lapel to drag him in for a quick but intense kiss. He turned to wrap his arm about Henry’s waist and held the scrap out for the quartermaster to view. “Île des Destins. Can’t guarantee we’ll find those feminine pretties but I’ve heard there’s treasure enough to buy lots of pretties in Tortuga or Port Royal.”

  Henry tapped the map with a fingernail. “That’ll do the trick, Captain. Let’s heave to!”

  As the crew began to make the adjustments to the sails, Aaron stepped aside and let McSwain take the wheel. The Scotsman eyed him briefly.

  “And where are we headed, Cap’n? Seems you should share the headin’ with yer steersman,” Angus no longer had an affable grin. He was, in fact, quite angry, his pale green eyes flashing.

  Aaron started to answer then tucked the parchment in his pocket. He turned to look for Henry before muttering, “Just keep t’ yer course, mate.”

  He didn’t notice the fiery spark that lit the green eyes. He only had eyes for his matelot, whom he caught by the wrist and dragged below.

  )O(

  “God’s balls, Aaron,” Henry shook his head and slapped a meaty palm on the small desk beside Aaron’s bed in the captain’s cabin. “I’ll not have any more of it. Ye must make a choice. ‘Tis either me or that Scottish snake, savvy?”

  Aaron sat up, pressing his naked chest against Henry’s back, the thin linen shirt covering the scars there that Johnson loved to trace. “It’s you, love, ‘tis always and ever you. Have a bit more patience. Once we make Tortuga, I’ll find another first mate. Maybe one who don’t like sodomy, hmm?”

  Henry’s dark eyes met Aaron’s blue ones, a slight smile on his face. “Ain’t no man can resist you, love. Those eyes? That face? I cannot blame McSwain for covetin’ you but you are mine. Make sure he knows it or there’ll be trouble, savvy? I got a family to take care of you know.”

  Aaron stretched forward to press his mouth against Henry’s. Between kisses, he whispered, “We, mate, we got a family to care for. Ike’s like me own.”

  Briefly, the Lash pulled back to look into his eyes. They were so dilated, there was just a thin ring of blue. “Ye really love him?”

  Aaron wrapped his arms around Henry to pull him back onto the bunk with him. “’Course I do, man. He’s a piece of you. For now, love, there’s another piece of you I’d like to discuss, hmm?”

  Henry chuckled, the sound low and lewd as he crawled back atop his captain.

  )O(

  McSwain stood with his ear pressed to the door, unconsciously rubbing the front of his trousers. He knew the sounds of love-making. The fact that Aaron had taken Stern back to his bed made Angus’ stomach twist within him.

  I ain’t jealous, he told himself. The captain of the Saucy Wench was a whore, like any other. Except that you want him for your own, the voice in his head answered. Angus swore under his breath. He pushed away from the hatch and was reaching to open the door to the deck when Roth stuck his head inside.

  “Cap’n? Oh, Mr. McSwain. We’re comin’ up t’ some rough weather. Shall we weigh anchor? Or switch heading?” Roth’s hazel eyes were worried. He was an experienced sailor but had seen the young captain playing his quartermaster against his first-mate. He didn’t like watching anyone getting their emotions tangled in knots. He’d heard grumbles from other crewmembers about the situation.

  McSwain cast a glance at the captain’s door then a look crossed his face that caused Roth to shiver. “Cap’n’s last words t’ me, Mr. Roth, were ‘keep to yer course.’ Unless and until I hear different, keep true.”

  Roth nodded then turned to go back on deck. He could only hope that the captain and his first mate would appear above before the storm hit.

  )O(

  Chapter 3:

  Sedition and Swag

  Henry Stern woke, aware something was wrong. His right arm was numb from Aaron pillowing his head there. “Aaron, love, somethin’s amiss. Can ye tell?”

  Aaron turned his head back to look at his matelot. “Sounds like a storm. Why didn’t McSwain let us know?”

  Henry rolled out of bed, fumbling to draw his trousers on. He paused for a moment to watch the Captain bend over to pick up his own garments. He laid a hand on Aaron’s back just above his perfectly shaped arse. “I’ve a thought. I think he means t’ pit the men against us.”

  “What? Why?” Aaron’s voice rose in disbelief. “We’ve done nothing to them.”

  Henry shrugged. As Aaron stood upright, the Lash wrapped his arms around his waist. “Maybe or maybe not, sapphire, but it don’t take much to turn a surly crew. For now, we must get above.”

  Aaron nodded but seized Henry’s shoulder to turn him back. He pressed a thorough kiss to Stern’s lips and held him tight for an extra moment. “Stay safe, love, for me.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Stern considered repeating the message back to his matelot but didn’t, knowing that he would do anything in his power to keep his sapphire-eyed lover safe.

  As the Lash opened the hatch onto the deck, a gust of wind slapped it closed. Rain slashed into the wardroom, stinging Henry’s face. “Bugger all! Aaron, it’s a squall, fer sure.”

  Aaron emerged from his cabin wearing his breeches and his overcoat. He joined Henry at the door and the two of them went out onto the deck. The edge of the horizon was a brilliant gold but above them were iron-gray clouds, rain knifing sideways. Aaron glanced up at the wheel as a lightning flash illuminated the deck. McSwain laughed at the elements and the sight caused a shiver up Aaron’s spine. He turned to seek out the Lash but his matelot was already helping to reef sails. Aaron swung himself into the port-side lines.

  He passed a group of sailors tying off lines and seized Roth’s shoulder. “Have ye got this?”

  Roth nodded, pausing long enough to wipe the hair from his eyes. A quick glance at the men working alongside him and he spoke. “Aye, sir. We’re doin’ fine.”

  “Good on ye, mate. Hang on and get down safe, eh?” Johnson resumed climbing, headed for the next group of men in the lines.

  Roth kept an eye on the Captain as he climbed. Despite the words McSwain had uttered about mutiny, Roth watched the bravest man he’d ever known head for the crow’s nest. His stomach rolled as the ship swayed ominously to the starboard. Over the howl of the wind, they heard a cry as someone lost their grip, falling from the nest.

  “Robert!” He called, remembering that the cabin boy had been assigned to the nest this afternoon.

  There was a splash as the falling boy hit the water. Roth longed to dive for the boy but fear
and cold froze his hands to the spar. To his dismay, a second, larger form dove past them. A flash of black hair in the glow of the next lightning strike told him it was the Captain. Roth shook his head and prayed things would be all right. He followed the men he’d been working with down to the deck. Looking up, he could see Henry and McSwain fighting to turn the wheel, to pull the ship to a different heading. Roth staggered to the side of the ship, wondering if he would ever see Robert or the Captain again. To his surprise, three of the other sailors were already at the rail struggling to lift Robert’s limp frame aboard. The Captain held the rope one-handed, his left hand cradled against his shirt as if in pain. Roth helped to drag Johnson over the rail as a break in the clouds revealed his palm was horribly marred by rope-burns, as was the back of his hand.

  Aaron smiled weakly up at him. “Grabbed the line too soon and let go too late.”

  Roth shook his head and pulled Aaron’s good arm over his shoulders to get him below. He was reaching for the hatch when Johnson pulled away. “Not yet, mate. Not ‘til the Maid’s in the clear.”

  As if mocking Johnson, the ship sailed into the pure golden light of sundown, water dripping from the masts, spars and shrouds but not from the sky. Aaron nodded to Roth and allowed himself to be escorted to the galley. The cook aboard the Saucy Maid was also the physician. Albert Tolley, cook and doctor, took one look at Aaron’s hand and gave Roth a jar of salve and some clean rags. On a pallet in the corner near the stove, Robert was bundled under blankets. Aaron nodded toward the boy.

  “How is he?”

  “Half-drowned and with a break to his arm. I believe he’ll be all right with time,” Albert sighed. “Who pulled him out?”

  Roth nodded to Aaron, who shrugged. “Captain’s got a duty t’ keep his crew safe.”