In Search of Spice (30 page)

Suzanne tried not to laugh and carried on. “We have found exercise helpful, so you are all detached from duty and put under command of Lieutenant Mactravis who will be putting you all through a fitness schedule.” She moved backwards, allowing Mactravis to take over. He leered down at them.

“Right my lads, you’re going to enjoy this!” A groan went up from the company. Some of them had been soldiers, and all knew enough about soldiering to know when an officer said that it was going to hurt.

“Now, we can’t do any exercise properly on board ship, so we all need to be on the beach.”

The crew looked at the shore, sand glistening as the wavelets ran up it, a good 300 paces away. Some looked hopefully at the boats, all lashed down securely. Captain Larroche made an ineffectual gesture.

“And you can’t do any exercise in your normal clothes, so strip. I don’t care if you’re naked or have shorts. Get a move on, you have one minute, then off you go to the beach.”

Pat was first into the water, quickly followed by the Pahippian girls who weren’t going to miss out on something as exciting as swimming, though they didn’t have a clue what was happening. The rest of the crew quickly followed, most stark naked, a few with shorts on. The older men were slower, and a few had to be thrown in. Brian squealed about his injury as the Bosun stripped him naked and threw him in. Rereau tried to protect the Captain, but Suzanne and Sara stripped him and pushed him over.

Pat was already on the beach by the time the last of them were in the water, surrounded by girls all trying to feel his muscles and chattering at the same time. They spoke little Belada, so it was tricky for him to fend them off, particularly when one took an interest in his member. So he set off to run, knowing this was the next step. He headed off down the beach, and as others came ashore, they saw him and followed.

Mactravis was in the jolly boat, keeping an eye on the Captain who was floundering, even with Rereau swimming beside him. Corporal Strachan nudged him. “Trouble,” he said, pointing to the beach.

It took a moment for the sight to sink in, and then Mactravis cursed. “Pat will run them into the ground. We need to head them off. Sergeant Russell!” He shouted to the other boat. “Send Grey Fox to bring them back, then get them organised into squads according to who comes ashore, ten to a squad, one soldier with a squad, get them running. See how far they can manage, turn back when they start to flag. I’ll look after the officers.”

Russell called out orders, Grey Fox dived off the ship and swam to shore, several other soldiers doing the same. Grey Fox swam to the beach and sprinted fast after the runners, sending them back as he overtook them. Some of them collapsed on the sand in relief.

On the ship, Suzanne found she and Sara were the only ones left, apart from the dwarves and the wounded in their hammocks, with a couple still in the galley. The female crew were ashore, supposedly in support of their men but really not trusting them with the island girls.

“Don’t you want to exercise, Sara?”

Sara frowned. Suzanne didn’t seem to be quite the same, a little more stand-offish. “I’m fine for now, Captain. A bit tired after my watch, not slept much. Once I get Pat into bed, I’ll be alright!” She grinned happily at the thought.

Suzanne frowned. “Well, that will be some time. You might as well take some exercise.”

Sara turned to her. “What about you? Aren’t you going to exercise?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, she wasn’t quite sure why she was uncomfortable, but Suzanne felt strange.

“Oh, I don’t need it. Didn’t affect me so badly.”

“Yes it did. I saw Mactravis with you.”

Suzanne flushed. “That was before I got my amulet.”

“It’s not that strong, no more than mine is, against this spell.” She looked closely at Suzanne. “You had a man in your cabin last night didn’t you?” Sara started to smile, but it wiped off her face as an awful thought struck her.

“Well,” said Suzanne, desperately, “I might have done. So what?”

“You smiled at Pat this morning. I saw you.” Sara’s tone was accusatory, harsh.

“I often smile at Pat. So what?”

“Not like that. You had him in your room last night didn’t you? You lured my boyfriend into your room.” Sara was staring at Suzanne, her voice beginning to rise. Suzanne flushed, then struck back angrily.

“I didn’t lure him in. He knocked on my bloody door when I was falling asleep. He wanted to borrow my amulet, so he said, but when he opened the door he changed his mind. The magic took us both. We couldn’t help it.”

“You bitch!” Sara flared. “I can’t believe you. I thought you were my friend. You know how I feel about him, I’ve talked about him, asked you if I should have his babies! And you, you slept with him!”

“It was the magic, alright! It wouldn’t have happened otherwise. But it did and it was great, and we both enjoyed it. And we’ll do it again tonight!” Suzanne glared at Sara, both girls getting more and more worked up.

“Aaaaaaagh! You fucking bitch! Whore!” and Sara flew at Suzanne, both hands slapping at her, grabbing for her hair. Suzanne retaliated, a short, sharp punch laying Sara back on the floor. Sara looked up at Suzanne, her eyes narrowed and she pulled Lady Strike from her scabbard with an ominous hiss.

On the beach the oblivious object of the fight cut a distant figure now, still gamely pursued by three of the girls, the others having turned to other sailors. Billy floundered along the soft sand when Grey Fox went past.

“Stop running, form up into squads and wait for a soldier to take you running,” he called as he went past.

“Fuck that,” said Billy and fell to the sand. He looked back and saw Rat, Pete and a couple of others under a palm tree a couple of hundred yards behind him. He grunted and went back to them.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Rat grinned. “Pat’s being pestered by those girls and took off, they followed him and everyone followed them. We were supposed to wait on the beach.”

“Ah, shit, why can’t he take them into the bushes and shag ‘em.”

“Hah! He’s probably too knackered. I ...” Rat’s voice trailed off. The others looked at him. “Hey! I’m not thinking about sex. Perryn was right. Exercise worked.”

The others looked at each other, wonderingly.

“Great,” said Billy. “We’re cured, we don’t need to fuck about running in this heat. Come on, let’s go back and help out or we’ll be rounded up for more exercise.”

The Spakka, all together, watched from nearby shade and followed them sweating profusely and pulling at their clothing. Rat wondered if they would finally relinquish their sheepskin.

In the jolly boat, Corporal Strachan grabbed Lieutenant Mactravis’ arm. “Sir, there’s something strange happening on the ship.”

Mactravis looked up from the floundering Captain, and heard the unmistakeable thunk of a weapon striking wood. “Oh hell. Are the island girls attacking again? Husk, take us back to the ship. The Captain will be all right.”

The Captain swam badly, but Rereau was with him. The jolly boat turned and quickly went back to the ship, where Mactravis gripped the rope ladder and started up, with Little right behind him. He reached the railing, looked over the top and stopped dead. Little pushed up beside him and looked onto the deck.

“Cor!” He said with feeling.

On seeing Lady Strike appear, Suzanne picked up her quarterstaff from where it rested against the ship’s wheel. She bounced lightly on her toes, gripping the staff nearer to one end with it pointed towards Sara. She was an expert with the weapon, and was totally confident in her ability to beat a swordsman. She feinted at Sara’s face and quickly reversed the staff to take out her knee, but Sara was easily equal, leaping backwards and coming in with a fast lunge at her hands. Suzanne blocked it and found herself breathlessly blocking a series of slashing attacks with Sara’s foot stamping relentlessly as she forced Suzanne backwards.

Sara switched from lunges at Suzanne’s body to slashing at her hands, and Suzanne retaliated by trying to catch the blade sunk into the wood and trap it. Both girls pulled back, breathing deeply and oblivious to the rapt audience building up. Suzanne smiled, she felt she had the measure of Sara now, and she would put the damn girl in her place. Punching the Captain indeed! Drawing a blade on her! It was not to be tolerated. She began to consider how she would punish her, and which bones to break now. She switched her grip on the staff, holding it equally between both hands, and advanced on Sara with rapid blows from alternating ends of the staff, aimed at head, hands, leg, body, neck; none too powerful, but fast, oh so fast, a swordsman couldn’t live with it. The arm, she decided with satisfaction, the left arm.

Sara retreated slowly, watching Suzanne’s eyes. She wasn’t so much learning her style as her rhythm. She noted the stronger right hand, and casually deflected the odd blow with Lady Strike, but mainly she used her feet to avoid them. Her anger had congealed into white hot fury that misted in front of her brain. She wasn’t thinking of anything but the need to spit Suzanne’s lying, deceitful body on Lady Strike, to wash the deck with her blood. Suzanne’s eyes tensed ever so slightly, Sara swayed out of line and lunged, her tip gently disappearing into Suzanne’s left forearm. Blood spurted out and Suzanne screamed in shock and pain, almost dropping her staff at the unexpected shock. She had never been touched before. She pulled back instantly, preventing damage to the arm, but it hurt, although it still worked.

Sara coiled up like a spring, put her foot against the rail and pushed herself forward, dropping at the last moment to slide underneath the defensive block on her back, flat against the deck, then jerking upright to stab at the exposed midriff.

Suzanne threw herself sideways, no attempt to block or strike, but rolling away from the attack while squalling with pain and fear. She thumped into the fo’c’sle wall, and turned to face Sara running at her with a face like death incarnate. With nowhere to go, she lashed out with the staff at full extension, caught Sara’s upper arm more by luck than judgement and turned the killing strike that stabbed into the wooden wall right beside her body. Suzanne was still squalling in terror and tried to get away as Sara wrestled to pull Lady Strike from the wall. As the sabre came free, a marlin spike whirled into the back of her head and she slumped to the floor. Suzanne, still sobbing in fear, tried to pull herself upright and finish her off, but the marlin spike came back and thumped into her midriff. She subsided beside Sara, and a wary Bosun came up to them, leant down and grabbed each of them by the hair, kicking their weapons away. She shook them, till Sara’s eyes opened and she had both girls looking at her.

“You stupid fucking bitches,” she hissed. “You sorry excuses for officers. This is my fucking ship and I won’t have you fucking tarts destroying it. Get a grip of yourselves! We’ve been attacked by natives and you two think you can fight each other? Over some worthless boy?” And she smacked their heads together, hard.

She glared at Sara. “You think you’re a fucking princess? Then fucking act like one! Sort out this bloody mess. You’re the one who told me not to kill those girls. Now prove you’re right. Sort it out.”

“She attacked me!” Suzanne gasped in outrage. “I’m the Captain. That’s mutiny, lock her up Bosun.”

“Captain? The Captain doesn’t go round shagging the crew. You wanna be Captain, well fucking act like it! Now both of you will forget this, go to your rooms and sort yourselves out. Understand?” She shook them and banged their heads together again. “Understand?”

“Yes Bosun,” whispered Sara, her voice dead and her face white.

Suzanne couldn’t speak, just nodded, and the Bosun dropped them. They crawled off to their rooms while the Bosun rounded on the spectators, fortunately few of them.

“If you breathe a fuckin’ word of this, so help me I’ll skin you alive. It never fuckin’ happened, alright?”

They nodded, mute.

Suzanne stepped ashore from the jolly boat, wearing extremely short shorts and barefoot, the sea going up past her knees. Her arm was sore, but the wound wasn’t deep and would heal. She walked over to Lieutenant Mactravis, enjoying the feel of the sand under her feet, but conscious of the heat. Inside she was still fuming over the row with Sara, but the makeup was doing its job and her face was a mask. She looked sensational and she knew it. One look would be enough and Pat would be trapped, she thought to herself with satisfaction.

“How’s it going, Lieutenant?”

“Pretty good, Suzanne. All the young guys are fixed. The Captain now hates me more than he wants Rereau so we are making progress.”

“You’re holding something back.”

He twitched uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I made a misjudgement.”

Suzanne arched an eyebrow.

“I should have had somebody ready on the beach. Would have done for soldiers, thought these guys wouldn’t be so fit.”

He waited for a response, but Suzanne gave him no encouragement, just looked at him levelly.

“Ah, we’ve lost Pat.”

“What do you mean, lost? Is he dead?” A hint of emotion crept into Suzanne’s voice and she looked at the village, wondering if Sara had run off with him.

“Oh, no, well, at least we don’t think so. He took off down the beach, running, and hasn’t come back. He set off without being told.”

“Alone? Unarmed?”