Under the Blac Flag

II. Black Dog

Morgan blinked.

"What do you mean you have the map?"

"Flint's treasure map. I didn't even realise what I'd stolen until it was too late."

"And, what? Are you going to go after it?"

Will shrugged: "Eventually, maybe. But I want to go home. I want to remember what it feels like to be a man. An honest, simple man. One without blood on his hands or shadows over his shoulder."

"So long as you have that map, you won't be free."

"I know," he sighed, "and part of me wants to be rid of it."

"But the other part of you is a pirate."

He glanced up to see if there was condemnation in her eyes but she was not looking at him. She was staring out the window, a smile spreading slowly but surely across her lips.

"Let's go get it then," she said. "Livesey can find us a ship. I have some money saved up. Johnny might even agree to front the voyage for us with the creditors. Especially if we can promise him great return on his investment."

Will frowned.

"Think about it Will," she pressed. "Forget a simple farm, with Flint's trove, you could buy half the damn countryside. You'd never have to worry or want for anything."

Will raised a brow at her: "You were serious about going pirate, weren't you?"

Then he sighed and shook his head: "They would find us. Silver has eyes everywhere. They'd kill us on the island or else they would plunder our ship on the way back."

"Silver?"

"Barbecue," Will explained. "That was what I knew him as. But seems he went by Long John Silver back when he was one of Flint's men."

Morgan's brow furrowed as she repeated the name: "Long John Silver."

Will scoffed: "Talk about a bloodthirsty cutthroat. Once, Barbecue convinced us to lash the captain of a prize to our bowsprit. It was days before the thirst finally killed him. He made us leave the corpse tied there until the flesh rotted from his bones."

Morgan shuddered.

"I pray you never meet that man, Morgan," Will said solemnly. "He's of the devil's own ilk."

A breath of air rustled the curtains as they sat in silence. The gloomy clouds began to make good on their threat of rain.

Though she sensed it was better not to press the issue, Morgan's mind was on a distant island, rusty blades buried half to hilt in the burning sand, and chest on chest of Spanish gold and silver plate just waiting for the taking.

Will's mind was somewhere else entirely.

"Morgan."

The earnestness in his voice pulled her sharply back to reality.

"Yes?"

"You -- you fancied me even when I was just a poor sailor with no prospects, didn't ye?"

She cocked her head at him: "I did."

"And you didn't shy away from all the wrong I've done."

She shook her head.

"And if I were to remain a simple man with no prospects," he paused to pull her hands into his, running a roughened thumb over her knuckles. "If there was no treasure. No riches. If all I could offer you was a cottage in the country."

The sailor looked up and found the young woman staring at him with a bemused smile across her face.

"What exactly are you asking me?"

"I think I'm asking if you love me."

"I should be insulted you felt you had to ask," she said, moving to straddle his lap.

Her lips brushed against his cheek as she whispered: "I thought I made it perfectly clear how I feel about you."

He groaned as she moved her hips against him, his breeches growing tighter as her teeth tugged gently on his lower lip. As he enveloped her mouth in a kiss, he unlaced his pants and pushed aside her clothes. She lifted her hips and slowly slid down onto his erect cock, moaning into his mouth as he filled her.

He lowered his head to plot a trail of kisses along her neck as she rode him, groaning lightly each time she pushed herself down onto his manhood.

Will pushed the buttons of her blouse open one by one and cupped her breasts, lightly twisting her nipples until they were pert. His hands ran along her body and came to rest on her thighs as he leaned backwards on the bed to watch the way her breasts bounced as she moved on top of him.

"So beautiful," he murmured, pushing a hand underneath her skirts so that he could rub circles against her pussy.

She came around his cock with a soft moan and the feeling of her sex tightening around his cock sent him over the edge. He gripped her hips and pounded into her until every last drop was spent. She leaned over him and kissed him, his cock still thick and pulsing inside her.

She was still kissing him when Mr. Thompson's fist sounded on the door.

"Hawkins, are you in there?" He hollered.

Morgan clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as she peeled herself off the sailor.

"Shit! Shit!" She whispered. "I have to hide!"

"Where?" Will hissed, not fully comprehending what about the situation was so funny.

"I know you're in there, you harlot! Mr. Shaw, open this door!"

She quickly did up her buttons and glanced around the room. There was only one sure option: She ducked through the open window, Will dashing after her to try to pull her back in.

"What the hell?" He whispered. "You'll get yourself killed!"

"Been climbing mango trees since I was three," she countered with a wink. "Go open the door!"

As Will tied his breeches and pulled on a shirt, Morgan crept along the wood-shingled roof until she came to the wooden post that held the Benbow sign. She knelt down, grabbed hold, and swung down onto the porch, landing with barely a thud.

With a triumphant chuckle, she made her way into the kitchen where she pretended -- to a very suspicious Mr. Thompson -- that she had been the whole time.

"Then why are you wet?" He asked, thrusting a pink finger at her.

"I went to collect some water from the well," she said with a shrug.

"Hmph. Likely," he muttered. "Well you mark me, girl, if you don't want to end up like your mother, you'll keep away from men like that Mr. Shaw and stick to your work."

"Of course, sir," she said, her green eyes glinting daggers. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a piece of salted beef that needs my attention if you'll be wanting lunch in a timely manner."

Mr. Thompson sneered as he left the kitchen. Will snuck in to join her not soon after.

"Fuck, I thought we were done for," he murmured, pulling her in for a quick kiss with a gentle hand on the back of her neck.

"Ye of little faith."

By the time lunch came and went, the sun had swept away the clouds to reveal a brilliant blue sky.

"When that nosy bastard is asleep again, I want to take you somewhere," Morgan said, leaning over the bar counter to offer Will a teasing glimpse of her breasts.

"Aye?" He asked, leaning forward to get a better view.

"I think you'll like it."

"Shall we bring a bottle of rum?"

"I think we better had."

The moment Mr. Thompson's first snore reverberated through the inn, the pair were out the door. Hands intertwined, Morgan guided the sailor along a narrow path that snaked down to a rocky cove at the base of the cliffs. Will followed slowly as she led the way across the jagged rocks.

"How are you going so quickly?" He called after her. "You must be half goat!"

"And here I thought sailors were meant to be nimble and agile," she taunted over her shoulder. "I hope you're faster in the ratlines than you are on these rocks."

"Mm, I'd like to get you on the lines and see what knots we could tie ourselves into."

"Careful now, you'll get us thrown off the Hispaniola before we've cleared the harbour!"

They followed the coastline to an outcropping that seemed to mark the end of the passable shoreline. But Morgan pressed on, leading Will through a hidden gap in the rock so narrow that they had to slip through sideways.

"Should I be worried?" Will asked, his nose almost touching the dripping rock-face in front of him.

Morgan laughed: "Now if there's one thing a sailor cannot be, it's claustrophobic."

"It's not so much a fear as a general dislike."

"Don't worry, we're almost there!"

He stepped out into the sunlight, shielding his eyes from the sudden glare. As his vision adjusted, he realised they were standing on a hidden crescent of beach, the pounding surf reduced to gentle waves by a natural breakwater.

Morgan grabbed Will's arm and pulled him onto the beach, their feet sinking into the powdery sand.

"What do you think?" She asked, casting her hand wide. The waves glinted gold as they stretched towards the horizon. "Our own private paradise."

"How did you find this place?"

"It's been my favourite hiding spot since I was a girl. I used to come here and pretend to be a marooned pirate or shipwrecked sailor," she said with a laugh. "Not quite so romantic in real life, I'm sure."

Will pulled her into his chest, running his hands along her arms: "Did your daydreams include being ravished by a pirate? Right here on your hands and knees in the surf?"

"I'm imagining it right now," she murmured, biting her lower lip.

As Will leaned in to kiss her, his hands travelled down her lower back to cup her ass beneath her skirts.

"But if you're to ravish me," she whispered, her lips brushing against his, "you'll need to catch me first."

She pushed away from him and began tearing off her clothes. Will followed suit immediately, kicking off his boots and throwing his shirt and trousers onto the sand.

Morgan threw her skirt at him and then raced towards the sea. For a moment, Will stood motionless, a crooked smile spreading across his face as he watched her body move in the sunlight, and then he threw her skirt over his shoulder and followed her at a sprint.

With a squeal at the cold water, Morgan plunged into the surf, Will only moments behind her. Morgan swam out to the middle of the cove, treading water as she waited for the sailor to make his way to her, his own feet never leaving the seafloor. Even at its deepest point, the water barely reached Will's broad shoulders.

"Not fair!"

"Not fair? You didn't even ask me if I could swim before you went hurtling into the sea."

"Can you swim?"

"Enough not to drown but clearly not as well as you, little mermaid."

"I'm a fair swimmer alright but, trust me, you do not want to hear me sing."

"Come here," he murmured.

She swam up to him and wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him hold her up underneath the water.

"And you don't have to tell me - " he said. "I've heard you sing."

Morgan gasped in mock outrage and splashed him with a wave of water. Will shook his hair and she shrieked with laughter as he sent droplets of saltwater flying.

"Bad nymph," he murmured, planting a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

She moaned as his hard cock brushed against her under the water.

"Are you ready for me?"

She nodded, her lips half-open.

He pulled her hips upwards slightly and positioned himself beneath her. Slowly, he lowered her body and pushed inside her.

Their lips hardly parting for more than a moment, she pushed herself up and down his cock, guided by his hands beneath her. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hard and slick with seawater.

With a breathless laugh, Will held her in place and tipped his head back.

"You're going to make this end too soon if you keep moving like that."

Morgan responded by licking a drop of salty water from his cheek.

He captured her mouth in a fiery kiss as he carried her back towards the beach, his cock still hard inside her. Morgan shivered as they left the water, the cool afternoon breeze prickling her skin.

Will pulled himself from her gently and set her down on her feet. He stepped back into the surf, stroking his cock.

"Go on," he breathed, twirling a finger in the air. "Turn around. Get on your hands and knees."

Morgan's eyes flashed as she followed his instructions. Her palms and knees pressed into the sand, she glanced over her shoulder to find Will's molten gaze fixed on her, his hand moving hard and fast along his cock.

She wiggled her ass in the air as a gentle wave washed over the beach, splashing against her.

Will knelt behind her and gripped her hips, shoving his length inside her with a groan.

There were no pestering innkeepers to catch them there: Morgan moaned as loud as she wanted, each thrust from the sailor's cock eliciting a gasp or moan that just made Will want to push inside her harder and faster.

Morgan leaned forward in the sand, pressing her cheek against the ground as she moved one hand to play with herself as he fucked her. She cried out and bucked her hips against him as she came and the feeling of her body against him sent Will past the point of return. He came with a cry, ramming his hips against her as he filled her with cum.

They rinsed in the surf and then returned to shore to open the bottle of rum, trading it back and forth as they dried off in the sun.

As the sun dipped towards the horizon, Morgan sat up and nudged Will with her leg.

"If you want anything to eat tonight, we better head back to the inn," she said.

"Only if you're making stew mutton again," he said, pulling himself to his feet and offering her a hand up.

"I am, in fact," she replied as they got dressed. "I'm surprised you're not sick of it at this point. It's hardly a delicacy."

"It is in comparison to what comes out of a ship's galley," he said, tugging on his boots. "It's not too bad in the beginning of a voyage normally but after a couple weeks? Phew! Then you'll be praying for mutton."

She laughed: "Are you trying to talk me out of going?"

"Not at all! Just want you to be prepared," He said as they climbed the winding cliffside path. "But it shouldn't be as bad aboard a passenger vessel like the Hispaniola. Once we ran out of food completely for a few days until we managed to catch another prize. I had to eat my own belt."

"You did not!"

"I swear to God I did! And I do not recommend it!"

The faint sound of their banter echoed along the cliffs as they made their way up the steep path. By the time they arrived at the top, they were both breathless from exertion and laughter. But, just as they crested the top of the trail, Will froze abruptly. From beneath the boughs of a nearby mahogany, a shadowy figure was waiting for them, his waxen features glinting.

"Bones," he sneered.

Will raised his left hand slightly to shield Morgan while his right went instinctively to his hip - where his sword should have been.

"Thought you could throw me off the trail, eh girlie?" Black Dog asked as he stepped out from the shade. "Lying bitch."

"Shut your maw Black Dog," Will snarled. "Run along back to your master and tell him to come kill me with his own two hands if he's man enough to try it."

The man snarled and spit on the ground: "Oh, Silver'll have the hide off you one way or another, you thieving bastard. I'm just the messenger."

"Like always," he retorted with a smirk.

As Morgan watched the men, she brushed the inside of her arm against her skirt to make sure the switchblade was still in her pocket. It was.

Black Dog's upper lip curled in a ghastly smile as he directed his gaze towards her: "Do you know why we call him Billy Bones?"

Will's whole body tensed as he stabbed a finger at the man: "If you know what's good for you, Black Dog, you'll not say another fucking word."

Morgan set her jaw and refused to break the stare.

"First prize we captured together had a pretty little wench on it. We strung her up on the long nine for the whole crew to enjoy," he said, his smirking eyes drifting down her body and then back up again. "And we did. Every man jack except Billy-the-saint-Shaw. That's why we call him Bones."

He giggled and leaned forward conspiratorially: "Because he doesn't."

Will's hands were clenched into fists, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"But clearly," Black Dog continued, either oblivious to or unconcerned about the danger he was courting, "he just prefers his whores thin. You're a scrawny little thing, aren't you? Still, I think I'd have a go at you if you were spread-eagle over --"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence before Will lunged with a savage snarl. Black Dog was prepared for the attack but not for the power behind it. Even with a grounded stance, Will bowled him over completely. Black Dog tried to pull a pistol from his waistband but, before Morgan could even cry out to warn him, Will knocked it flying. Morgan raced after it, scrambling to try and catch it before it tumbled over the cliffside. Seconds too late, she clambered to her feet with a curse.

A cloud of dust surrounded the men as they struggled. Will launched a fist at Black Dog's jaw but the man recovered, thrusting a knee into his stomach that knocked the breath from Will's lungs. Suddenly Black Dog was straddling his chest, his hands wrapped around Will's throat.

When Morgan thought back on what happened later, her actions replayed in her mind with unnatural slowness: She pulled the knife from her skirt. Flicked the blade open. Took five deliberate paces towards Black Dog. Raised the blade high with both hands. And plunged it straight down.

Far easier than she had expected, the man's flesh yielded to the sharp sting of metal. The blade went straight into his heart. She pulled it free and stepped backwards as he choked out a strangled cry.

His eyes widened as the grip left his fingers and he pitched sideways. Will pushed him off and was on his feet in a moment. He snarled and threw kick after kick at Black Dog's sputtering body before the pirate went still completely.

Morgan looked down at the bloody knife in her hands and realised she was shaking. Will's voice sounded like it was coming from miles away.

He lifted her chin and the world snapped back into focus.

"Are you hurt?" He was asking. "Morgan? Are you alright?"

"Aye," she muttered. "Aye."

She brushed past him to crouch beside the corpse. She wiped the blood from her knife across his shirt before snapping it closed and tucking it back in her pocket as she returned to her feet.

She turned around to find Will behind her. His amber eyes searched hers for a moment and then his hands were cupping her face, pulling her in for a breathless kiss. He wound her arms around her shoulders and pulled her tightly into his chest.

"You saved my life," he murmured between kisses.

Morgan pulled away slightly, unshed tears glistening in her eyes despite the smile on her lips: "A girl does what she can."

Will kissed her once more and then released her.

"We need to get rid of him and get back to the inn," he said, peering over the nearby cliffs in search for a place with a sheer drop into the ocean. Together, they heaved Black Dog's body towards the cliffs and over the edge where the sea swallowed him without ceremony.

"And so ends the wicked life of Black Dog," Will muttered. "I'm sure the devil will welcome him warmly."

Morgan sucked her teeth: "Good riddance."

III. The Black Spot

Will sat in his customary seat at the end of the bar, watching Morgan work over the rim of his tankard. It would be hard to tell there was anything amiss but, if you looked closely, you could see a slight tremble in her hand, the shadows behind her eyes.

He had turned her into a murderer.

He downed the remainder of his rum and set his mug down a bit harder than he intended to. Morgan glanced his way and cocked her head at the anger and sadness writ plainly across his brow.

She nodded to the patron she had been speaking with and made her way to him, pitcher of punch in hand.

"Something wrong?" She asked gently as she refilled his tankard.

"I'm sorry I got you caught up in all this," he murmured.

"We can talk about it later," she said with a soft smile. "But you needn't apologise."

The evening wound down at its usual pace. Other than Will, only Johnny noticed Morgan's preoccupation.