Old Ironsides

I have to thank Randi for encouraging me to participate in this event. While not a Legends Day, it is still a special day, and to have my story up beside so many great writers is truly an honor. Thanks to Randi, of course, for her impeccable editing.

*

Reading has always been a quiet hobby. My nature wasn't all that outgoing, so reading was what I did. Reading brought me to something that seemed to bring me back, often, to a story about an officer on the

U.S.S. Constitution

who had the same last name as mine, Edgerton, who was lost at sea. I often wondered if the man was an ancestor.

The

Constitution

was berthed at Boston, and when I learned I was going with my family to Boston to drop my sister, Suzy, off at Boston University, I was very excited.

I had never been out of our small town in New Hampshire, and since I wasn't a total nerd, I was hoping that I'd get a chance to go to Fenway Park for a Red Sox game!

As we drove through the Back Bay to get to Suzy's dorm, I caught a glimpse of the Fenway Park lights and the big Citgo sign, and started pestering my parents to take me to the game.

"We have a lot to do, Jimmy," my father said, "and not much time for a game. Tickets are expensive and hard to get. I'll see what we can do, but no promises." I was bummed out and sulked until we reached the dorm and I had to help unload all of Suzy's stuff.

The next day, my hopes of going to a game were once again dashed, but I brightened up when my parents told me that we were going to see the

Constitution

!

I was afraid that the reality wouldn't live up to my imaginings, but as we approached the ship my concerns vanished. She was magnificent! It was hard to take it all in, from the cannons sticking out of the gun ports, to the tall masts, to the American flag snapping in the breeze.

I was lost in thought, day-dreaming about what it would have been like to actually sail her into battle, the sights her crew would have seen. My father had to give me a gentle shove as our turn came to walk up the gang plank onto the ship.

I only half-heard the tour guide in his period uniform droning on through his rote speech as my head swiveled, trying to take in everything at once.

"Watch out!" was the last thing I heard before my head banged into a low entryway and the darkness took me.

When I came to, I thought that I must still be dizzy from the blow to my head, because it felt like the ship was moving but that was impossible, she was in dry dock; she only left under tow for her annual turnaround cruise so that she would weather evenly, and there was no way that we could be on one of those.

Looking up, I saw the billowing sails, then saw and heard the hustle and bustle of an actual man-o-war at sea.

Just as I was noticing that I no longer had on my usual jeans and t-shirt, but was wearing a very rough version of what the tour guide had been wearing, I was nearly knocked over by a burly seaman.

"Step lively there, lad," the man said, "there's a war to be won!"

I shook myself out of my daydreams enough to look around and saw that we were indeed under sail, with no land in sight.

If I had any thoughts that simply being under sail would be relaxing, I was quickly disabused of that notion. All around me was the hustle and bustle of constant activity, dozens of men rushing about doing all sorts of tasks that none of my reading had prepared me for, when suddenly a shadow came over me.

Looking up, I saw a man who was obviously an officer looking at me with a severely stern look on his face.

"What's the matter, midshipman, have you no work to do? I'm sure that we can find something that even a puny lad such as yourself can handle!"

"I... I'm sorry, Sir, I seem to have bumped my head and I'm a little confused."

"Then go below and see the Surgeon; after he has you sorted out, go find Mister Himes, the Bosun, I'm sure that he can find something useful for you to do."

"Y... Yes, Sir," I said as I tried a weak salute, but he was already off to torment someone else.

I knew enough from my readings that the Surgeon would be somewhere below deck. I could only hope that I could find him without too much difficulty.

None of my reading could have prepared me for the smells I encountered. On deck, the sea breeze masked most of the odors, but the cramped spaces below decks seemed to only amplify them. Bathing on a ship of the line was an almost unheard-of concept, and don't even think about deodorant.

It wasn't hard to find the Surgeon; I just had to follow the moans, groans and screams of the sick and wounded sailors. Nothing in my reading could prepare me for what I saw in the surgery. There was blood everywhere, some severed limbs were still lying in a pile in the corner, and if I thought the rest of the ship smelled bad, the smell here nearly caused me to throw up.

A man, I presume that he was the surgeon, looked up at me from his task of re-bandaging a sailor's amputated leg.

"Well, boy," he said gruffly, "Don't just stand there, what do you want?"

"I was feeling a little dizzy, and I was sent to see you."

"As you can see, I'm a bit busy right now! How are you feeling now?"

"O... Okay, I... I guess," I managed to say.

"Then get out of here so I can get back to work!" he said as he turned back to dressing the wound.

As I made my way aft, I saw a sailor coming my way.

"Excuse me," I said, "Do you know where I could find the Bosun?"

He gave me an odd look, then said, "'E's prob'ly where he usually is: aft, 'neath the quarterdeck," and went on his way.

I found the Bosun with no further difficulty, and not knowing if I should salute, I just cleared my throat.

He looked up from his work frowning.

"What is it, boy?" he said, "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"The Lieutenant said that I should see if you had any work for me to do."

"Damn officers, do they think I've got nothing better to do than play wet-nurse to some useless midshipman?"

Before I could stammer out a response, he waved dismissively.

"Just make sure that the ropes are coiled and all gear is stowed properly. We could be going into battle at any time and we can't have the men tripping over things."

"Aye-aye, Sir." I said as I turned to look for anything out of order.

"Don't call me, 'Sir'," he said, "I'm not an officer; I work for my living!"

I got away from him as fast as I could and just tried to keep busy, or at least look as if I was doing something useful. I spied some other midshipman, followed their lead and gradually got into the routine of the ship.

It was definitely NOT fun! If it wasn't for exhaustion I don't know how I could have managed to get any sleep in the cramped and smelly quarters, and the food was worse. It took me a couple of days of hunger pains before I could stomach what I could only loosely describe as "food." Even the water was barely drinkable; I could see why rum was so popular, even beyond the obvious.

One bright spot was when I made my way topside for some fresh air, I heard the Captain talking to Lt. Edgerton. I had found my man! Only time would tell if there would be any meaning to my discovery.

A couple of weeks after finding myself aboard the ship at sea, the lookout sighted a frigate, which was quickly identified as the

HMS Guerriere

. I was nearly knocked off my feet as the

Constitution

shuddered from the impact of a volley from the

Guerriere

, but there was little damage. Captain Hull ordered the gunners to return fire, and after a few exchanges of cannon fire between the ships, he managed to maneuver us into an advantageous position within 25 yards of

Guerriere

. He then ordered a full double-loaded broadside of grape and round shot which took out

Guerriere's

mizzenmast. With her mizzenmast dragging in the water she collided with us, entangling her bowsprit in

Constitution's

mizzen rigging. Only Guerriere's bow guns were capable of effective fire, and Captain Hull's cabin caught fire, but it was quickly extinguished. With the ships locked together, Captain Hull called for a boarding party, but the heavy seas prevented us from boarding her.

We rotated together counter-clockwise, while Captain Hull continued firing broadsides. Many of the

Guerriere's

cannonballs bounced harmlessly off

Constitution's

hull, leading one of the American sailors to proclaim "Huzzah! Her sides are made of iron!"

I was astonished; I was present when

Old Ironsides

got her nickname! I had little time to savor the moment. As the two ships pulled apart, the force of the bowsprit's extraction sent shock waves through

Guerriere's

rigging. Her foremast collapsed, and that brought the mainmast down shortly afterward.

Guerriere

was now a dismasted, unmanageable hulk with close to a third of her crew wounded or killed, while

Constitution

remained largely intact. The British surrendered.

We continued our patrols until Captain Hull decided to go to Haiti to reprovision the ship.

As we docked at Port-au-Prince, the Captain warned us that though things were relatively quiet, it was still a dangerous place, that we shouldn't travel alone and that we must be back on board by sundown the following day.

Several of the sailors had been tormenting me about my state of virginity, and were determined to cure me of this "defect." They dragged me off the ship and headed off in search of a house of ill-repute, as they called it.

Before we had gone far beyond the docks, we encountered some form of native celebration, with dozens dressed in colorful and strange costumes. I barely noticed my separation from my crew mates as I was swept along right out of town into the surrounding forest.

Drums and horns kept up a cacophony until we reached a large clearing with a huge bonfire in the center, and a single hut on the far side of the clearing.

At an unseen signal, all the noise stopped, and the natives knelt with bowed heads facing the hut. Two of them tugged on my arms until I was also kneeling, but instead of bowing my head, my attention was drawn to the hut as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen strode elegantly out of the hut.

She was tall, taller than me, I guessed close to six-feet-tall. Her skin wasn't white, but much lighter than all the other natives. Her hair was a mass of black curls, and she wore a simple sarong style skirt worn low on one hip, revealing a belly button piercing. She also wore a top that seemed to be made out of some kind of silken scarf, wrapped around her neck and back, concealing and supporting her breasts.

She walked slowly around the bonfire, barely glancing at the assembled crowd. She stopped momentarily in front of me, and for some reason I was disappointed as she moved on. When she got to the end of the line she turned and walked back until she was once again standing in front of me.

She drew a circle on the ground, then retrieved some bones, they looked like chicken bones, from a pouch that she wore on her waist. She rubbed the bones between the palms of her hands while muttering something unintelligible to me, then cast the bones into the circle and thrust her hands up and gazed up at the sky.

She looked down at the bones and smiled at me with a look of satisfaction.

She stroked one cheek, and then the other before grasping me by the chin and making me rise up.

"I am called Jacienthe," she said, as she seemed to breathe in something, as if she was inhaling my scent. "How shall I call you?"

"J... Jimmy, James," I stammered.

Jacienthe gave me an odd smile.

"Well, Jimmy, James..." she began.

"No, no," I said, "Just 'James'."

She gave me that same smile, as if to say, "I know that, you silly boy!"

"Well, James, I sense that you have never known the pleasures of a woman. Am I not correct?"

How could she know that? Could one of my shipmates have told her? No, they were nowhere to be seen.

I could only nod my head in embarrassment, keeping my eyes lowered.

"Now, James, there is no need to be ashamed. There is a first time for all of us. As it happens, I have need of a man with your... qualities, for a special charm I need to cast. Will you please help me, James?"

I was both excited and afraid. I knew that I could have an experience that few could ever hope to have, but just what did she have planned for me? I could sense no threat from Jacienthe. To the contrary, I felt great warmth and affection, but what if I was already under her spell?

Deciding that if I was, there probably was really no refusing her, anyway, so I decided to give her what she wanted.

"Yes, Jacienthe, I will help you."

With the slightest nod from Jacienthe, the drums started up again as she took my hand in her incredibly soft and warm hand and led me around the fire into the hut. As soon as we entered, the drumming stopped, and even without looking I knew that the natives were gone.

"Welcome to my abitasyon, James."

"Your abi... abitas...," I stammered.

"Abitasyon. My home, but it is so much more. My zanset-yo, my ancestors, have made this their home since long before the white men came in their large ships."

Jacienthe led me into the center of the hut where there were two mats on either side of a red candle in a gold candle stick. There was a small dish holding a flame behind the mat where Jacienthe assumed a seat with her legs crossed, Indian-style. She motioned for me to assume a similar position on the other mat. It was a little uncomfortable, at first, but with a little shifting around I got reasonably comfortable.

She picked up a brass bowl and a wooden mallet, and started rubbing the mallet around the edge of the bowl until an eerie sound began to fill the hut. She set the mallet aside, but the sound continued for a few moments before gradually fading away.

"Now, James, I want you to close your eyes, and open your mind. Just let the spirits flow through you. Don't try to listen for the words, just feel the moment."

It all felt strange to me. I had, of course, heard of meditation, but I had always thought of it as some sort of New Age mumbo-jumbo. Jacienthe was so sincere that I felt myself wanting to be with her, understand her, help her, and I discovered that I was losing myself in the silence, inhaling Jacienthe's sweet scent.

It was with quite a start that Jacienthe grasped my hands, and I opened my eyes. It was almost as if I had been asleep, though I knew that I hadn't been sleeping.

She poured some scented oil over both of our hands, and rubbed our hands together, then drew my hands over to the candle and guided me in stroking the candle up and down.

If I were to be crude, I would say that we were masturbating the candle, but it was actually a most tender and sensuous experience.

All too soon she pulled her hands back from mine, pulled a flaming stick from the flaming bowl and lit the candle. She positioned her arms with her palms facing upwards. She raised her hands and began softly chanting some sort of a prayer, in a language that I couldn't understand. As her chant grew louder, the flame seemed to get brighter, until she shouted, "Ago," and the flame shot up, then settled back down.

Jacienthe stood up and helped me up awkwardly to my feet.

"Come, James, it is time."

"Time?" I asked, "Time for what?"

"Wait and see, James. Wait and see."

She again stroked my cheeks, this time holding my face in her hands, as she pressed her full lips against mine. I had, of course, kissed a girl before, but it was nothing like this. Her lips were hot and lush, and tasted like I thought a fine wine should taste.

I tried to kiss her back, but she remained in complete control, thrusting her tongue into my mouth as I completely surrendered to her. I didn't know where this was going, but if this night was to be the death of me, then I would die with a smile on my lips!

I don't know when her hands left my face, but she was soon removing my shirt. I was briefly embarrassed by my sparse chest hair, but Jacienthe didn't seem to mind as she lovingly stroked all over it. She gently tweaked my nipples, startling me, before soothing them with gentle kisses and softly sucking on them.

Jacienthe continued kissing down towards my navel, then lowered my pants as my erect cock sprung free. I had masturbated to Internet porn, but I couldn't remember it ever being this hard; it even looked bigger.

She lowered herself to her knees and kissed the tip of my cock, all the while gazing up at me with her almond-shaped eyes, looking both feral and loving at the same time. How I didn't cum right then I'll never know.

Jacienthe licked up one side of my cock, and then the other, then took the head into her mouth. As she started to lower her mouth towards the base of my cock, it took every ounce of my self-control not to shoot off too soon, but Jacienthe seemed unconcerned. When she took my entire length into her hot, wet mouth I knew that I wouldn't last long, and as she began moving up and down I could feel the end coming soon.

"Jacienthe," I said, "I think I'm gonna..."

She just gazed up at me, smiled around my cock and nodded, and I came in her mouth harder than I had ever cum before. As I sank to my knees I expected her to turn and spit out my cum, but she instead swallowed, then moved in to kiss me again. I hesitated for just a moment, knowing where her mouth had just been, then realized that if it didn't bother her, it shouldn't bother me.

I really couldn't taste anything odd. Maybe it was the heat of the moment; maybe it was just the taste of those luscious lips.

When she rose up I started to stand also, but she motioned for me to remain seated.

By some unspoken command a single drum started beating out a sensuous rhythm, and Jacienthe began to sway in time, swinging her hips enticingly, waving her hands similar to a hula dancer.

Before I knew it, she was reaching behind her neck to untie the scarf that was covering her breasts, releasing them from their confinement as she cast the scarf aside.

They were breath-taking. They weren't the biggest breasts I'd ever seen, though the only ones I had ever seen were in online porn, but they were perfect. They were firm and perky, with dark erect nipples that were pierced with small silver bars in them. When she raised up her arms to sway with the beat of the drums, I noticed for the first time that her underarms weren't shaved. For some reason this didn't bother me. I think it was partly realizing the era we were in, but partly because it added to her earthy sensuality.

She lowered her hands to her breasts, giving the bars a slight twist. That seemed to send an electric shock through her body, then she slowly stroked down her body until she reached her sarong skirt.

Jacienthe gave me a sly glance as she turned her back to me, giving her hips just a little extra shake as she untied the knot and let her sarong fall to the ground revealing her glorious ass.

I never considered myself an "ass man," but Jacienthe could easily convert me. She had a large ass, not Beyoncé or Kardashian big, but maybe a bit bigger than what I thought I would like, but it was gorgeous. It was firm, not fat, and perfectly shaped.

Before I got completely lost in worshipping her ass she started to turn around. After her underarms I was expecting to see a forest between her legs, but she had a fairly sparse patch of pubic hair.

She swayed over to me, first nearly rubbing her ass in my face, then turning to let me get my first, live, up-close and personal look at a real pussy.

I wasn't sure what to expect. Different stories gave different descriptions, but all that I can say is that Jacienthe's pussy smelled just as beautiful as the rest of her looked.

Jacienthe sat down on the floor of the hut, removed my boots and helped me remove my pants, then leaned against me.