UMA

Breakfast was just being cleared away, another lazy day on board. This was actually the first morning that I had made breakfast - I am not famed as an early riser nor do I ever eat much at that time of the day. It actually puts me off to see how much food some of our guys can shovel down at that time of the morning- plus Terry and I generally had better things to do than nurse our early morning hangovers in the bright sunshine.

The only minus point was I had missed Jack's famous morning bathe which dragged most of the pervettes out of their pits at some ungodly hour like 6 am. However, as I was spending most of my holiday being fished out of the water by Jack anyway, I didn't feel so inclined to turn up for the dawn plunge. The one Terry performed was much preferable to me anyway. Most of me stayed dry and I didn't have to open my eyes unless it got particularly interesting.

But today was different. I was up early and, while they were filling their faces, I decorated the main sun deck with a little gift for my Brothers and Sisters. It was Part One of the Great War between the newly formed Triple Entente (Teener, Ann and Killick)  versus the Tripartite Alliance ( I have sworn to keep the names of this pact secret on pain of having my credit cards cut up. My lips are sealed.)

After completing my task I took a seat on the top deck and waited. I didn't have to wait long. Couple after couple trickled in to take loungers and lie about discussing the day's onboard activities, our first day at sea since the stay at Gorda .Terry joined me above and sat down, pretending to read a book.

"You do realize that they will kill you, don't you?" He observed from behind the pages of 'Looking for trouble: SAS to Gulf Command.  The autobiography of Sir Peter de Billieres'.

Can you get any sadder than that on your holidays? 

"They deserve it - I am only defending myself! I have been thrown in three times and had to jump in on another two occasions to get away from them. My wardrobe has been ransacked and that toad Killick has been creeping around like Uriah Heap conspiring with them. I would have thought a soldier like you would have understood the notion of righteous anger!"

He cleared his throat. "You have been warned. That's all I'm going to say. Don't expect me to stand in the way when they pounce - I haven't got the guts to take on the whole gang. My training left out the bit about hostile women with a licence to scratch eyes out."

Ignoring the world's greatest living human chicken, I peered over the rail. I saw Cort and Bud reading a series of A4 pieces of paper pinned up along the wall beneath the staircase to the upper level. Cort's shoulders were shaking and Bud had this grin on his face that he was trying to conceal with his hand. I heard Max say "What are you reading?"

"Er...come see for yourself...not sure I can describe this..." Max strolled over and I watched him scan the lines and his eyes flicker; his face remained impassive.

"What are you lot looking at?" One of the girls shouted over.

"Nothing you'd be interested in, honey." Bud retorted. Guaranteed to get old Nosey Parker going. She stood up and Ann wandered after her. I snorted at the sight of Ann trying to see round or over the backs of the three men who were successfully blocking her sight. She put her hands on Bud's shoulders and tried jumping. While her partner-in- crime, being taller, managed to lean over Cort's shoulder (any bloody excuse, I saw her hands grab his butt) and began reading. I counted down.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four...

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck is this shit! Where is that little British tart?" I clapped my hands in glee and stamped my feet (quietly) on the wooden deck. Terry suddenly shoved me to the floor as they looked up.

"She up there, Terry?"

"Tink? No, love...haven't seen her for a while." He then sat down... "and that is the total extent of my involvement, love. You're on your own now - it was nice knowing you," he whispered.

"What are you lot going on about?" Ann still hadn't found a way through.

"OK Ann, sit down, while I read you a little story." Teener said in a voice that suggested her back teeth had been clamped together. I crouched on the floor, my back against the rails and listened.

Forbidden Love or Lady Aubrey's Lover.  A parody in the style of Jane Austen meets DH Lawrence

 

It is a truth universally recognized that a woman in possession of a husband who has been gravely wounded in the groin, in noble service to his country, whilst commanding a ship of the line, is in dire need of the comforts of a right good rogering.

Lady Ann Aubrey was such an unfortunate woman. Her dashing husband, the famous Lucky Jack, once famed for his daring and seamanship, not to mention his gargantuan appetite for food, drink, women and his extremely large manhood, was now a shadow of his former self. Reduced to a near invalid, with no appetite for anything but a simple chicken broth, and incapable of even shaking a leg, let alone raising any other part of his anatomy, the once mighty English oak was now completely indifferent to the pleasures of the flesh. Even his particular friend, Stephen Maturin could not find a way to restore his virility despite the number of water enemas given or the ounces of blood he drained from him.

Into this sorry state of affairs we must now introduce one Miss B, a humble but extremely well endowed companion of the dear Captain's wife. There had been a time when the Captain, in the fullness of his lusty concupiscence, had also taken his delights with this genteel but over-sexed friend, but now both ladies were suffering from a malaise, which they found difficult to comprehend.

One afternoon, sharing a cup of tea and some sandwiches thinly coated in Gentlemen's Relish, the two ladies endeavoured to seek the opinion of dear Dr Maturin as to the nature of the condition from which they jointly suffered.

"My dear sir, I have of late been rather restless. It seems that I can barely keep my mind on a simple task. Whenever I sit down to read some religious tracts or embroider the gusset of my husband's linens, I find myself strangely distracted and my thoughts turn to quite disturbing matters, such as hardly befits a virtuous woman," Lady Ann began.

"And I, too, find myself wakeful at nights, tossing and turning on my pillow with memories of...past nights when I was more fulfilled, one might say," added Miss B.

Dr Maturin, well used to reading beneath the lines of the manuscript, knew at once the cause of this grave malady.

"Dear ladies, the answer to your problem is near at hand. What you lack, since Captain Aubrey has been rendered 'hors de combat', is the intimate attention of a member. Of the opposite sex."

The two women looked at each other. "And do I detect a willingness for you to offer your services in that regard, dear doctor?" Asked Lady Aubrey, with a charming coo.

"Alas, no, dear ladies. I am your medical advisor and, as such, my oath precludes me from such liaisons with patients. But never fear, there is an alternative close at hand. Look, speak of the old sea dog, himself! Why here is the man in question, faithful as ever to his master. He must have just finished completing the captain's ablutions. That fine fellow will do anything to accommodate Jack's lady!

And in tottered Preserved Killick himself...

A scream shattered the calm scene. "That fucking little bitch! I will wring her scrawny neck! Death by a thousand cuts is too good for her!"

"Wait until you get to the best bit. You and Killick on a billiards table in the games room! It follows me tied to the bed head by some of Jack's neckerchiefs, being serviced by Killick. It's foul stuff. She is one sick mental bitch. I'm going to rip her head off..."

"C'mon, it's a joke. She's just teasing. Have a sense of humour, honey!" Bud said, somewhat unwisely.

"Don't you dare take her side, White! Suppose she's been wiggling that pert little butt in your face again!"

"Ah, honey, I haven't been near her!" He protested.

"...Calm down, querida. See the funny side of it. It's very clever..." Cort joined in.

"What? It is...libellous. I could sue her for defamation of character. I think I will!" Ann screamed. "Just look at this!  Lady Ann lay enraptured in his bony arms and cooed into an ear that sprouted thickly with grey hair... 'My love, my forbidden love!' She cried' ...I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it"' And Ann began to rip the sheets down and screw them into balls, throwing them over the side.

"Ann, do not get into this state! Uma is playful. She means no harm." Maximus put his hand on her arm.

"And you can fucking shut up as well! We all know where you're coming from, buster!" Ann shouted back; Maximus grimaced and sat down.

Terry lowered his book and gave me a patronizing look. "Be it on your own head. I'm jumping ship now."

"You can't. You read it first...and you made a few suggestions. I'll get you in the shits, mate."

"That's blackmail."

"You bet." I grinned cheesily and crept down by the rear stairs to the relative safety of my stateroom where I lay back on my bunk and spun a few more webs. Did I mention my middle name is Arachne? I knew they would be up to something now - in fact, I was counting on it. It would be the second prong of the campaign.

I have mentioned that I am essentially a military historian, haven't I? Well - the hostile actions that brought our two opposing camps to the brink of war had been going on for a while. My little ultimatum, posted for all to see, had achieved its goal. War had finally been declared. For my first strike, however, I needed to appear to be the innocent party - which I clearly was not. So, to ensure the support of the greater number of impartial observers, I required either their active participation - or their neutrality. It was essential that the other Sisters were seen as the aggressors.

Hmm.... Methods? Well, as most of my targets were men, I could make use of my body - but as most of my enemies were women...that was not going to work. They had more bodies than I did. And bigger tits. So.... Hmmmm.... What would make the men fold? Ah ha! Got it. Now how to make that happen? Hmmmmm.... It might work. Would take rather a lot of acting skills. No, over acting would do. They never recognise a bad performance in a woman. Let me say one name. Meg Ryan.

Am I ever wrong?

I mulled all these factors over in my mind and then I got changed. Clothes are always important. It is essential to select the correct outfit and image one wants for a given moment. In battle such as I was about to face, would any soldier not be clad in the finest of armour? Would Maximus have gone into the arena without his breastplate? Would Terry go loud without his camos? Notice how Cort removed his inappropriate priestly garb before going to face his opponent (not to mention his clothes when contemplating amorous combat with Ellen.) Jack always dons his best gold epaulettes and his hat with chelengk when making an official appearance. Clothes maketh the man. Woman, too, in this equal opportunities world of ours.

So, I girded my loins, in a manner of speaking, and stepped out into the bright sunlight quoting good old Henry V 'Once more unto the breach' not to mention The Charge of the Light Brigade: 'Into the valley of death rode the five hundred...or the one lone woman..'

TERRY

I warned her. That is my defence and I am sticking to it. I told her I was having no part in it, I would not bail her out and there was no way, even for her, that I was taking sides. She simply gave me that look. I have only ever seen that look before from one person in my entire life. It frightened me then and it still has the power to do so. I shrugged down the cold chill that crept down my spine and reminded myself that there was no way in this world that she could force a man of my professional skills and acumen to dance to her tune, risking my entire standing amongst the body of people that I have come to love and respect, just to play some puerile game of tit-for-tat on her behalf.

So - I'm not always right. I forget. I'm a man. 

After the posting of the story (which is fucking hilarious, I might add. And there is no truth to the rumour she is spreading that I suggested the bit about the neckerchiefs) and the delivery of copies of it to every cabin and room on the boat, Tink disappeared for a while. I wasn't fooled. She was up to something but I just settled back into this book I had been meaning to read for ages. It is by my former commanding officer, one of the greatest tacticians and experts in covert ops that there is. Mind you, he never knew Uma.

The rest of the girls were still fuming and muttering, down below me. I mostly ignored them, except when Teener stormed up.

"Where is that British ho? Have you seen this crazy shit she's been delivering to every cabin? Listen to this... 'Having inadvertently stumbled upon the passionate congress taking place in the scullery, where Mr. Killick used the oil he generally kept for polishing the master's ceremonial sword, to anoint his own member and the body of his mistress, little Teener, the kitchen maid, so aroused by hitherto unimagined desire, pounced on young Bonden who merely chanced to pass by with a chamber pot in his hand. Together they embarked on a singular odyssey of Venusian discovery in which Bonden was indeed bounden. At last, a use for all that wasted sail rope!...' What the fuck is this? Since when have I done anything to her? I put up with her driving me nuts in New York, never once pushed her in - although sorely tempted..."

"She's mental. Too much sun, gin and shagging - lost her wits - not that she had many to start with. She thinks she's so clever though...shaking her butt around...thinks the men will protect her...if they know what's good for them, they'll back off. That is if they ever want a shag again in this life..." Ann warned.

Bud joined me, leaning on the rail. "What do you reckon? Should we do something? This is really hottin' up...you talked to her?"

I gave him a look.

"Jeez...what am I thinking...reason with Uma...tall order, hey? Let's keep an eye. I've a feeling something's about to blow."

"It is. Be ready to move. And watch your balls if you do." He nodded and groaned at the memory of his last intervention between Uma and one of the other girls.

Just then, he grunted and I stood up. Uma was wandering along towards the rest, dressed rather oddly. But you know her. She was probably sporting some new refugee chic style that she had paid a small fortune for but looked like it came from an Oxfam shop. We both watched the scene unfolding.

"Well, look who it is! Wilhelmina Shakespeare herself. Love the look. What is it - urban Goth meets New Age hippie?" Ann threw her first dart.

Uma pouted. "Chic. Don't think it's reached the deep south yet. Still wearing that crinoline - or are those just your real hips?"

"Don't even try it, tart. We are not rising to your bait. You have tossed the glove down and we are picking it up. But - on our terms. Next move - we decide when and where- you got that?"

Leaning back on the rail, nonchalantly buffing her nails and crossing one ankle over the other, Uma went on... "What did I do? Nothing. I am a writer. So I write. You should be flattered that I wrote such a witty little piece about you all."

"Flattered? I notice you didn't include yourself in this voyage through your gutter brain." Ann replied.

"Me? Of course not. I hate Killick. He hates me. Whereas- you two...oh, you are his two favourite perves, aren't you? I am famed for my realistic style. I never write things that couldn't ostensibly happen, give the right circumstances...that's the secret to good writing, didn't you know?" I groaned. Bud grunted. The women circled.

"It is only my desire to wreak a revenge to end all revenges on you that stops me from slapping your smug little face, honey!"  Ann snapped.

"You may find yourselves taken to task if you touch me, mate. No one agrees with you lot. The Brothers are with me. After all, I have done nothing wrong. Since I came on board I have behaved myself. I haven't even had a sniff of your blokes, although most of you have been on Terry like an embarrassing rash. Then you throw me in several times - about which I have said nothing - not to mention ransack my wardrobe - again, I kept my temper. I write an amusing little story and you stiffs can't even see the funny side of it. Don't you have a sense of humour? Did the Puritans not stock any on the Mayflower?"

Teener walked up and leaned in, eye-to-eye contact -wonder where she picked up that little trick from? "Push it a bit further, sweet thing, and revenge won't be necessary. They'll be picking up the pieces on every island in the area. You got that?"

Bud and I both tensed, ready to move. I saw Maximus stand up and lean against the wall nearby. Cort watched, his fingers flexing; we were all waiting for the click.

"You're just picking on me. I don't know why. I'm sick and tired of this. I'm going to ask the Brothers what they think...I'm going to discuss this with Bou..."

"I'm not taking your side, Uma. You got one over us in New York and we got you back. Don't be so vindictive. Let's just put an end to this bickering..." Bou spoke up for the first time.

"And as for our men...you've been shaking that bum of yours around all week in front of them. You tease more cocks than Little Red Hen," Teener added.

"If you bring the men into this...I won't forgive you...I mean it," Ann warned.

Uma squared up and looked at them. It was like High Noon. Everyone held their breath. Suddenly she sighed and turned to walk away - you could feel the tension dissipate. She was backing down.

No, she wasn't. 

"Can't help it if they all recognize a real woman when they see her..."

"What? What? WHAT!!!"

And then the shit really hit the fan.

Jack strolled up, a broad grin on his face, waving a copy of the story. I heard Bud whisper: "Fuck! Laughing boy's about to shoot himself in the fuckin' foot..."

"Ann, my dear...have you read this excellent piece of whimsy? Why it is quite delightful- so droll, so witty. There are moments which call to mind the best of Swift or even Defoe...Moll Flanders, Tom Jones...all those excellent romps. I felt quite flattered to have received my injury...it was the very thing that so dogged Nelson's twilight years. What good company I was in!"

Ann spun round. "You think it's funny? Me and Killick is funny? Are you Brits all insane? Open your mouth once more and I will ...I will..." She was lost for words.

Unfortunately Uma wasn't. "Thank you, Jack. I'm afraid we can hardly expect these colonials to understand the finer points of satire. It was a mere pasquinade and yet these dear ladies cannot quite see it. But then, that is our English spirit. It is what won us the empire, wouldn't you agree, dear Jack?"

Bud went for the stairs, I leapt the rails, Max charged, Cort sprang but none of us could reach them as fast as they moved. She was hitting the water before we reached the rails. There was a stunned silence; I climbed up and dived in.

The trouble was that every other time she had fallen in (or been helped in) we had either been at anchor or in very calm waters. She had never been pushed in real anger before. Today was different. Jack had already commented on the higher seas that morning- they were picking up some fallout from a storm that we had skirted. The swell was strong and Tink was not in swimwear. She had on a baggy pair of cargo pants with a bib, more like overalls, a heavy white cotton shirt beneath and a thick ethnic knit sort of jumper. In fact she looked distinctly odd for the climate and must have been very hot. I had also noticed that she had stiletto leather boots on. In fact if she wanted to be waterlogged and drown she couldn't have selected more suitable attire.

I was so concerned for her safety that those things never occurred to me until later. I hit the water and surfaced, couldn't see her. Jack was climbing the rigging, shouting orders to the crew on the bridge, while scanning the water for any sign of her. Men were lowering a boat.

"There, man - about twenty feet to stern...dive, she cannot surface..." Jack bellowed before ripping off his own shirt and diving in himself.

I was having trouble against the current and the boat seemed to be traveling away instead of nearer but I dived down, pulled hard, saw her struggling to get out of the heavy woolen coat that was dragging her down. Reaching her, I kicked for the surface, tore off the jacket and let it float away. She was limp in my arms and I was scared.

"Uma...Uma..." She gasped for breath and began to splutter, waves slamming into us as I held her tight. She began to cry.

"I thought ...I would drown...I couldn't...I wasn't strong enough..." she stammered out. Jack reached us and took her from me - even I was feeling exhausted fighting the current and the weight of her clothing.

The launch approached and we lifted her in, one of the crew wrapping her in a resuscitation blanket; she was shivering and pale, frightened and wide eyed. I pulled myself over after her and fell beside her onto the floor of the boat, Jack climbed rather more nimbly in after me. For a few moments I lay there gasping, trying to get my own heart beat back to normal.

"You OK?"

She nodded. Jack said nothing, merely casting a look at the pinched and guilty faces peering over the side of the yacht. I took her in my arms and she wept softly. She hardly ever cries but when she does it just gets to me. It got to Jack, too- you could see his expression. I wished that she didn't have to come on board in this state. I knew she would feel humiliated in front of the rest of them. At that moment, I was so angry that I had to mentally control myself - I could have easily wrung some necks.

At the side, they lowered a cradle and raised her in it; we shinned up the ladder. There was silence on deck. Stephen was waiting to look her over but she shrugged his hand away; fair play, she's got pride. She walked towards the steps to the cabin, clutching the blanket round her and then turned.

"OK, you all won. Point taken. I think I'll just go and pack. I'm getting off at the next stop. 'Bout time I stopped spoiling everyone's holiday." And she ran down the stairs. I could hear the break in her voice.

"Proud of yourselves?" I said, before going after her.

Before I went more than a few steps, we heard the thud, followed by a small scream suddenly cut off. Uma was lying awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs and out cold; she must have slipped in the sodden clothing, missed her step on the way down, twisted her ankle and then hit her head on the wooden rail. This suddenly became an even more dangerous game.

"Stephen! Get here now!" I shouted, checking her for signs of broken bones. Lifting her, I took her to our cabin followed by Stephen and a trail of other people.

"Get the fuck out of here!" I bellowed, slamming the door on the worried faces. I know I shouldn't have reacted like that - the Sisters were concerned but...I was just so worried. Her face was pale; she was cold and wet. We stripped the soaking clothes and boots off her, wrapped her in warm towels and placed her gently in the bed. She looked so fragile.

Stephen examined her. "There is no obvious contusion to the head. That is more worrying. I fear internal bleeding. This may be more serious than it looks. More than I am equipped to deal with on this ship. I must inform Jack, we need to make the nearest port."

At that moment there was a knock at the door and Jack entered. "I must know her condition, Thorne, in the event that she will require medical attention. Must I change course?"

Stephen stood up. "I fear so, Jack. Lose not a minute."

"Sea plane. Helicopter. I'll radio shore. I can't chance the time it will take to get her to an island which might not even have adequate facilities...Christ...she could die on our hands here!" I was losing it.

Just then I heard a murmur. "What...happened...?" We spun round and Tink put her hand to her head... "How did I get in bed? What are you lot doing in here?"

Stephen ran back to the bed and held her hand, felt her pulse, checked her eyes. "I think we are safe. Perhaps she merely swooned. Is she prone?"

I nodded. "When she's under stress. She does it all the time. Must have fainted and fallen. Guess she didn't hit her head. Thank Christ for that!"

There were smiles all round as we realized that she was all right. My heart started to beat again; I think I'd been holding my breath for the last fifteen minutes. Jack and Stephen patted her and went to take their leave when she suddenly sat up and said... "Before you go...would you do me a favour, lads?"

Well, what do you think we said?

Back on deck, chairs were set out and everyone took their places. Jack stood before the group and relayed the information concerning Uma and her state of health. He gave a stern and restrained lecture on the day's events and made it quite clear that this sort of prank must stop. It had no place on board. A ship was safe providing safety standards were adhered to but ultimately the sea was an unpredictable and dangerous place and he would not tolerate any more acts that endangered life. It would not be Uma who was put ashore at the next stop should he have to repeat himself. "There was a good reason why I always believed women should NEVER be allowed on board. You ladies have just confirmed my feelings about that!"

No one said a word. The men stood at the back and said nothing; it was clear they thought the women had gone too far; the sight of Uma tearful and pale, barely snatched from drowning had been a sobering lesson to all. Some of the women were crying and all of them were ashen.

"Can we see her?" Bou asked. "We need to tell her we are sorry."

"She cannot be disturbed. Stephen is with her. He is afraid that the sight of any of you may be too traumatic for her. The Brothers can take turns to watch over her. When she is stable, perhaps she may ask for you."

They accepted that. Then Jack turned to the matter of the tit-for-tat pranks. "These could ruin the entire trip. They stop now! There is to be NO FURTHER RETRIBUTION! Is that clear? Whatever imagined slights you feel -YOU KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!  Have I your word on it, Sisters? Are you going to promise me that under no circumstance will you continue this arrant nonsense which nearly killed a very dear lady, friend to all of you and lover to others...not to mention the wife of one the best men here?"

One by one they all promised, turning round to me and assuring that it was over and that they would do everything to make amends - would I let her know? She mustn't leave the ship; they would miss her too much. I nodded and excused myself to go down and check on her, Jack came with me.

Not long afterwards, Hando knocked and entered quietly. He was worried and I know Uma would be delighted to have him by her at a time like this. When she saw him, she smiled and invited him to sit down by the bed.

EPILOGUE

"Mrs. Ann? Beg pardon, Ma'am, but could I have the honour of a few minutes of your time?" Killick smiled, a rather unattractive and rare baring of his teeth.

Ann blushed, still with the imagery of the nightmare of her 'Forbidden Love' (a copy of the manuscript already secreted, preserved one might even say, beneath the old steward's pillow for later.)

"Of course, Killick, what may I do for you...? I mean, can I help you...or rather, what do you want...? Ah shit - spit it out, Killick..."

"If you would be so kind as to accompany me to the stateroom, perhaps with Mrs. Teener, too."

"Forget it, buster. That was not our fantasy," Teener muttered.

"Which is not my meaning, my lady, not at all. Old Killick, he hears a lot and sees even more...I'll warrant you might be interested in what I am about to show you...something you have never imagined..."

Teener and Ann looked at each other and shivered at the thought of what he might mean but followed him anyway. He surely wasn't going to try a pass on them with the Brothers on hand? Down they went to the staterooms until they hovered outside stateroom 4. With a sleight of hand, unimagined in such a raw fellow, he eased the door open a crack and several voices were heard.

"...You cannot have that! It isn't a word. Tell him Terry, you can't have profanities in Scrabble."

"Quit whining, ...OK, try this..."

"Not bad, mate..."

"I am not allowing that from you, H!"

"Why the fuck not?"

"Gonad? In the singular? They come in pairs...in your case, double pairs..."

"Still a word...Doc, back me up?"

"He is right, dear lady... the word does exists in the singular..."

"Yeah, love, like Hitler...what was that rugby song about him..."

"Bugger! Stop smirking! I hate that smart-arsed look. Right, I'll wipe the floor with all of you this time. There!"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Ha ha. Very good, Uma. Excellent and a naval reference too."

"What does it fucking say? At wart? What the fuck is that?

"Athwart, man. Crosswise. As in athwartships. Splendid. What a score!"

"See. Beats your 'sniper' any day, big head." Uma dragged Terry's can of beer and helped herself to a swig.

"Stop crowing. Toss us a fag, love, I always smoke when I'm playing poker - or Scrabble..."

Killick and the two crouched at the door listening in horror to the conversation. Head trauma? Sedated? Extremely serious condition? Requires 24 hour supervision? The Brothers to take hourly watches through the night? While Uma was sitting up in bed surrounded by four adoring men, playing Scrabble, smoking and drinking? And two of those men were Jack and Hando? They stared at each other as Killick closed the door silently.

"Will you be requiring my services to wreak punishment on the little hellion, miladies?"

"How the fuck can we? She's untouchable now. Jack made us all swear to leave her alone. I can't believe this! It was a set up from the word go!" Ann gasped.

"Bitch! Well, she might be in the clear...but I know two men who are not getting any honey tonight. When I see Hando, I'm going to ram his balls into the middle of next week...that will cool his fucking ardour..."

"How could Jack do that to us? Is she some sort of witch? She must have put a hex on him. I will kill him. He will wish he'd kept to his original vow never to take women to sea. Well, at least he can be assured of chastity for the rest of this voyage. Let's see the others...no one touches Hando or Jack...or the other one... for the rest of the trip."

"No, that won't work...she'll just have a field day shagging the three of them. Not to mention the rest who are so worried about her... That's what she wants... I think. We need a drink and a meeting. Call the sisters. Hurricane warning. Hold onto your nuts..."