Dangerous Game
Naked Prey 4
Part 2 of 2
by George Gauthier
Author's Note: This is a tale of a teenager's misadventures during the early eighteenth century while on a long voyage of personal discovery, reaching from London to the Caribbean and beyond. It is Part 2 of the fourth story in my 'Naked Prey' series for the Historical section of the Nifty Archive, each with different characters. The other stories so far are 'Naked Prey' set in 19th century Africa, 'The Shawnee', set in colonial America, and 'Terra Australis', set in the great age of exploration in the South Seas.
It contains graphic descriptions of the male human body and of consensual and non-consensual sexual activity between adult males.
If any of this would offend a reader, read no further. This is not intended for persons younger than an age where they may freely and legally select their reading matter in whatever jurisdiction applies.
It is offered for entertainment. It is as historically and geographically accurate in its setting as I could make it, with only minor poetic license. If it manages to both intrigue and to provoke prurient interest, it will have succeeded in its aim.
It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead. The story was suggested by and is a homage to Richard Connell's famous short story, 'The Most Dangerous Game', though with my own personal twist to the premise. The actual hunt is only the last chapter in a long tale that is at least as much a gay Gothic romance as a tale of high adventure though it is that too.
Note: the story or one with the same premise has been filmed many times, notably in 1932 with much the same cast and using the same expensive jungle, swamp, and gate sets as for the classic movie 'King Kong'. (Yes, Fay Wray is in it.) See the Internet Movie Data Base under Richard Connell for a list of titles based on his short story.
Readers who like these stories might want to try my 'Daphne Boy' historical tales or my 'Jungle Boy' series of tales in a modern setting, posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section of the archive. Also, please try my futuristic 'Track and Field' stories in College and my 'Mer-Boy' stories in Gay/Beginnings. For links to my stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.
Comments and feedback welcome.
When Last We Left Our Hapless Hero
Jamaica 1732
Wrongly convicted of a crime, former shop boy Jamie Sandys, just shy of seventeen, is now an indentured servant on a sugar plantation on the island of Jamaica, a British colony. His master is Andrew, Third Baronet Colfax. Jamie is one of the mysterious aristocrat's 'naked ones', pretty boys in his service who are set to normal duties around the plantation, for Colfax will tolerate no idlers, but are kept entirely and perpetually nude. The youthful baronet intends to train the lad for sexual service. As a 'naked one' Jamie has had the growth of all the hair on his body permanently suppressed. The fate of all the dozen or so previous boys who served for a few years as 'naked ones' is unknown.
Meanwhile, the white cadre of the plantation are using Jamie's delectable body for their mutual pleasure save only that his incomparable ass is off limits to anyone save the master.
The baronet is personally engaging, moderate in his habits, forbearing as a master of his slaves and indentured servants, certainly no tyrant. Rich, connected, handsome and powerfully built, he is a striking figure in every way. He also has a ruthless streak in him that few suspect.
Chapter 4. Training
One day Colfax had Jamie conducted to the verandah. The lad was healthy now from fresh air, hard work and good food and with his strength and stamina much improved by his own efforts. The boy had not realized at the time how debilitated he had been when Colfax bought him at the slave market. His incarceration and long sea voyage, inactivity, poor food in prison and aboard ship had all taken their toll. It was time to start the boy's training.
"Training?" Jamie asked.
"Yes, we get started tomorrow. Your mornings will continue as they have been, but Mr. Morgan will adjust your gardening duties to a half time schedule. Your afternoons will be spent in the gymnasium to make you stronger, faster, and more flexible, and to extend your endurance.
"Gymnasium?"
"A Greek word, it means.."
"Oh I know what it means sir. I have read that in books, at Master Fleming's shop in London. I know all about the gymnasium and the naked boys and older men who, well took them under their wing, often as lovers. Actually that was the first time I ever heard anything good about sex between two males. To listen to most people talk, it was something dirty and shameful and sinful."
"But you know better now, don't you Jamie?"
"Yes sir, of course. I also know about the Olympic games, where athletes competed naked. They made nude statues of the winners. I have seen woodcut pictures of them. But which building is the gymnasium?"
"No building actually, except for an equipment shed. It is entirely out of doors. Once you are in better condition, I will teach you the tricks of an Oriental houri boy in the House of Pleasure."
Jamie could hear the capital letters.
"The House of Pleasure, you called it, sir?"
"You cannot see it from here and Morgan did not point it out during your orientation tour. Your training there will be mostly indoors." Colfax said with a smile.
The next day Jamie reported to the gymnasium's equipment shed. A man named Foster was Colfax's trainer. He had the boy stand on one end of a balance beam, adding weights of various sizes until they matched.
"Eight stone and three" Foster said aloud as he wrote a note to that effect.
A British unit of weight, a stone is 14 pounds, making Jamie's weight 115 pounds [52 kg].
"Now for his height. Let's see, five feet five or a shade under [165 cm]. Close enough."
They took other measurements too, waist, chest, hips, the span of his arms, etc.
"We are not measuring you like a tailor would for clothes, lad. You won't be wearing any."
"Yes sir, Mr. Foster. I understand."
"These are your base measurements. You body will change as you progress. At first you will drop a few pounds as we shave your body fat."
"Me, body fat? Look at me, I am skinny as a whippet! Look at these ribs and sharp hip bones."
"Get complaints about those hips, do you boy from yer lovers? I wouldn't be surprised, but actually you are wiry and muscular, slender granted, but neither skinny nor scrawny. That means bony, and you are not that. Too much firm flesh. Still, everyone has a bit of fat inside. I suppose you have seen a slaughtered animal? The yellow fat that cushions the organs, that kind of thing."
"Yes sir, I see what you mean."
"Good. There is also fat just under the skin. We will slim you down a bit since that happens faster than building muscle. You will likely wind up at the same weight, only with a bit more in your shoulders and arms, and a tad less in your waist, and in your tantalizing arse."
Jamie smiled at the compliment. Colfax was on hand for the occasion and winked at the boy.
The program was exhausting. His training schedule included long runs of at least five miles three days a week to build stamina alternating with three days of intense strengthening exercises that took less time than the runs. All six days included flexibility training, some of which was a bit painful.
The flexibility exercises were actually hardest of all though Foster was patient, helping him, showing him how to twist, stretch, reach, spread. They wanted to get him to do a split like in ballet, something he had never come close to when dancing. This all had obvious implications for his upcoming sex training. All through the training, Foster was a gentleman. His lust for Jamie was obvious but he was completely professional in all his dealings, especially his touchings.
Jamie had one day off per week, though he was usually expected to walk about a bit so as not to get stiff. Swimming was available daily. Jamie was encouraged to end his session at the pool, a wide portion of a creek lined with rocks along one side to provide a firm bank for diving. At first he could only splash about uncertainly but soon caught on with Foster's coaching. Within a month, he looked like he was born to the water. Morgan and and other white cadre including sometimes joined him for a swim. Naturally everyone swam nude. Bathing costumes for males had not yet been thought of.
Jamie's garden work in the morning did not suffer, since he was fresh from a night's sleep when he reported for duty. The long runs in the afternoon usually left him flagging till he had a chance to rest. Just when he thought he had satisfied Foster, the man lengthened his run or shortened the time allotted for the distance or both. The fiend! Soon Jamie was doing ten miles on two days and fifteen on the third.
Sometimes as he ran along, Samson would wave or call out a greeting. "You'se really coming along good now boy!"
Of all the blacks on the plantation, Samson was the friendliest and the one he liked best. Cheerful, hardworking, shrewd with his advice. Jamie always liked to talk with him when he could. Samson had been captured as a lad of eleven by a neighboring tribe, a victim of the unholy alliance between native chiefs and European slavers who traded guns and strong drink for human flesh.
As Jamie ran along the paths on the plantation, he stopped as needed at water points or wells to drink, something he was urged to do before he got thirsty. They had once had a boy who forgot and they lost him, his body on fire, skin red and hot and dry. He went into convulsions and died of sun stroke.
Colfax had spent a lot of time watching the boy both openly and semi-surreptitiously by telescope on his runs. He had often passed by while the boy worked in the gardens and chatted him up, touching him, getting the boy comfortable and relaxed in his presence, all as preparation for his eventual sex training.
Once the boy reached his peak of fitness, or rather a plateau he could maintain indefinitely on his own, Colfax would have his likeness sketched with charcoals and captured with water colors but definitely not in oils. The titled Philistine in him could never understand the attraction of oil paints. A medium that took 80 years to dry properly and quickly developed crackling held little attraction for him. As far as he was concerned the much vaunted 'craquelure' wasn't an aesthetic effect. It was a defect in the medium. Anyway, in Jamaica's climate, an oil painting would not hold up well.
Sketch artists and water colorists worked much faster and could produced many sketches or paintings while a man working in oils labored over one. Sketches were flexible. Some could be merely an outline or suggestion of their subject. Others could be as detailed and subtly shaded as a chiaroscuro painting in oils. Besides, Colfax found sketch artists and water colorists are pleasanter and more down-to-earth sorts than those pretentious and airy fairy oil painters. Some of them seemed to think they were doing a rich man a favor simply accepting a commission, letting him be their patron. And even then, try telling an artiste what you wanted or to make suggestions. It amounted to lese majeste or rather, it was like dealing with a bad tempered fishmonger's wife.
Actually that was just an expression. As far as Colfax knew, the wives of fishmongers were no more ill tempered or ill favored than the wives of men in any other occupation.
Colfax also had his own ideas about some of the great masterpieces he was supposed to admire. He had seen the frescoes in the Sistene Chapel on the Grand Tour as a very young man. In his not so humble opinion, Michaelangelo's nudes were grotesque, over muscled and over padded, circus strongmen running to fat. Too much! And why paint the father of the human race with infantile genitals? The notion was absurd. The Italian's figures were even worse than those of that Flemish painter Reubens, and that was saying something.
Finally even Foster was satisfied with Jamie's performance and appearance. He had trained the boy to a level roughly that of a modern Olympian. Time then for Colfax to set his artists to work, sketching and working with water colors, to create portfolios he would treasure his whole life of Jamie at the very peak of his youth and beauty and desirability. Sixteen to say twenty-two are a boy's best years. After that he would be a young man, still eminently desirable of course, though without that first blush of youth.
Colfax did not tell his artists what to do. He relied on their aesthetic. From each artist, Colfax would select one sketch and one water color to be framed, to hang in his gallery of naked ones, a bright airy room with French windows and a skylight to illuminate the nudes with indirect light.
Ten weeks after the start of his physical training and a month after his seventeenth birthday, Jamie began his sex training under the personal tutelage of the baronet himself. This was one job he was not delegating.
He had waited long for this moment, contenting himself in the meantime with caresses and passionate kisses, and naughty touchings, even bringing the boy off with his hand. Once a week, the boy had met Colfax in an outdoor bower and fallen to his knees to worship his master's masculinity, swallowing his master's seed in token of his submission. Aside from welcome fingerings and probes with certain naughty objects, Colfax had left the boy's nether hole alone.
It was very frustrating for a randy lad like Jamie, but he knew he had better reserve himself for the baronet and give him first crack, (no pun intended).
Jamie's enthusiasm and joy at finally starting his sex training deflated rapidly when he met Colfax in the modest bungalow called the House of Pleasure. The baronet was not only fully clothed, they met in what amounted to an office or maybe a classroom. Jamie's first training was an anatomy lesson. Jamie was aghast. Back to school? Why?
Like all teenagers, Jamie thought he had invented sex. Under Colfax's tutelage, he would realize how much he had to learn in the way of giving and taking pleasure in sexual relations. Jamie started off with only the vaguest of notions of male anatomy. His teacher showed Jamie diagrams of all the muscles and structures in the pelvic region then gave him oral and written tests. At first Jamie struggled with the boring lessons. Why so much theory? His rebellious attitude and poor test results were actually no more than Colfax usually got from his young students. Fine. It gave him the justification, even in the boy's own eyes, to bring out that infallible motivator of laggard students, the cane.
Poor Jamie. Every time he did poorly on his tests, he was treated like a wayward schoolboy. Bent over his master's desk, bare rump vulnerable, he had to endure the indignity visited upon wayward schoolboys: the firm application of birch to rump, hopefully connecting eventually to the boy's brain.
Of course the baronet did not thrash the boy severely. It would never do to really hurt the lad, make him bleed, leave permanent marks on his lovely taut brown ass. It was a chance for the baronet to have some fun with the boy. He looked so delicious, gracile torso bent over, rump uppermost, trembling with anticipation and fear. It was hilarious to watch the rapid trembling of his buttcheeks. The baronet deliberately varied the timing of the strokes to keep the hapless boy off-guard.
After each stroke, he had Jamie call out the count, and woe betide the lad if he lost count, for then the baronet would start over. The boy also had to beg for another stroke, never knowing just how many stripes he had earned for a particular infraction or failure.
Thwack! "One, sir. Thank you sir. May I have another, sir." Thwack! "Two, sir. Thank you sir. May I have another, sir." Thwack! "Three, sir. Thank you sir. May I have another, sir." Thwack! ...
Having finally overcome his hurdles in theory, Jamie moved on to practical exercise. Colfax drilled him in getting conscious control of all the muscles in the pelvis, starting with those involved in urination. The most familiar set of muscles in that region because the most frequently used, they were easiest of all for gauging a boy's success in taking control by turning the spigot off and on. Colfax had his student drink the half-beer given to slaves till he was fit to burst, then had him discharge his bladder, stopping on command no matter how urgent the need to continue. No dripping allowed either. Jamie learned about his sphincters and erector muscles and how to use them. He learned to milk a cock with his internal ass muscles. His teacher used dildos to impart these lessons to his enthusiastic pupil which got him very excited. The boy had a sex drive that was extraordinary even for one his age. His brain must be swimming in hormones.
Following anatomy, the second and final subject was sexual positions. Colfax had a copy of a book that had been secretly printed in a very limited edition. It was a short book very much in the vein of the Kama Sutra, oriented to sex between males. The simple drawings were clear and very easy to follow though particularly erotic.
Jamie soon learned the first two chapters by heart, ready to demonstrate with one of the white men called in for the purpose, a volunteer. Jan Van Wyck, a well-favored young man of twenty three was happy for the chance to play with the boy, one of Colfax's exquisite naked ones, even if he could not fully consummate their coupling. Indeed he had to wear a pouch cinched tight at the base of his genitals.
"You are nearly as dark as I am!" Jamie exclaimed, admiring the young overseer's naked body. "Hairless too, and you have a brand yourself."
"Yes, Jamie, I was once in your position. Now I am an overseer. So, after years in the sun, I am quite tanned, though I don't run around bare ass like you do, Jamie, at least not all the time. Not that I am complaining. I like seeing all of you."
"That's good. You would be a first to complain. Everyone else tells me I look fine the way nature made me.", he said with a smile.
Just over four inches under six feet (172 cm), slender, raven haired and with startling blue eyes, Van Wyck was a very good looking young man in his own right. He had a fine torso tanned down to his hips where a lighter tone of bronze started and sported the same kind of tattoo as Jamie, from his own service as a naked one six or seven years earlier. Though he often went shirtless and with his breeches slung low on his hips, he usually kept his pants on, certainly when he was on duty, though he liked to swim and regularly ran the footpaths in the nude. His lower legs were also darkened by the sun since he did not bother with stockings in the heat, not working around the plantation. He job was supervising the artisans on the plantation: smiths, carpenters, coopers, and such.
Van Wyck's bronzed skin was an exception to the usually strict color lines in colonial society where one's status was indicated by skin color, the lighter the tone, the higher the status. The lowest were the enslaved blacks from Africa. Upper class females had the lightest skins, shading themselves with fabric, hats, and parasols. Aristocratic males like Colfax had bronzed faces and hands and arms, but the rest of their bodies seldom saw the sun. As an indentured servant Jamie was in-between, his tan deepening all the time in the perpetual summer of the tropics. As he himself had realized, his constant nudity pushed his status even lower, toward that of domestic livestock. After all he was the only human (except for one) on the plantation who had a brand on his haunch. Well, at least they did not lead him around on a leash or put a ring through his nose or hitch him up to a cart.
Colfax smiled at the lively exchange between them. Yes, let them get comfortable with each other. It would make the training easier and better for everyone. The young overseer was an experienced lover as they practiced the positions with much kissing and touching and petting. The two youthful males ran through all the positions. There was that bit of awkwardness when Jan's pouch got loose because he was so aroused by his intimate contact with Jamie. No one's fault and perfectly understandable in the circumstances.
"Oh go ahead, Jamie." Colfax chuckled. "You know what to do with a cock bobbing in front of your face."
Blushing, his own cock tumescent and rigid, Jamie put his lips to Jan's long slender cock, smooching the purpled helmet, running his tongue along the rim of the glans, even poking the tip of his tongue tiny slit. Jan shivered with arousal. Jamie took his cock into his mouth, into his throat, alarmed at how far it reached into him but relieved that its girth made it easy for him to breathe. Jan nearly swooned with the delicious sensation, the warmth and wetness bathing his manhood. Meanwhile Jamie had his hand on his own excited member, stroking and pumping. At their ages, it did not take long to reach a splashy climax as Jan pulled out the last second to shoot all over the boy's delicate features, leaving a string of cum on his forehead, nose and chin. Jamie spurted his seed onto his own chest and belly. Both youths sighed and lay in each other's arms, hands bringing a taste of both their seed to each of them.
"Very nicely done, lads. Perhaps this would be a good time to break for lunch?"
Colfax was never jealous of anyone using Jamie's mouth. He had rather enjoyed seeing his pouty lips close around Jan's cock. Jamie's mouth was made for cock, for pleasuring men with lips and tongue and throat.
Chapter 5. Lovers
Finally school was out. It was time to move on to graduation, the consummation of the boy's training and their relationship as lovers. Jamie presented himself at the delightfully appointed bedroom of the House of Pleasure. It was furnished mostly with a wide square bed set flush to the floor and provided with three firm mattresses. The baronet did not like to sink into a bed while frolicking or to fall off either in his enthusiasm.
Jamie had voided himself and then been flushed out by Van Wyck. After bathing and anointing himself with a subtle rose fragrance he presented himself to the baronet, a single blossom in his hair. He smiled shyly at the handsome gentleman, still in his tropical white suit. Nervous as a bride, a silly grin on his face, Jamie bowed his head and knelt before his master. He had never wanted anything more in his life than this.
The baron would be the first to show the boy what anal sex, in the fullest sense, was really like. It was good that others had played with Jamie's bunghole with fingers or sundry tubular objects. The boy certainly was not shy back there. Morgan and Van Wyck and others had excited him enough to get his hole twitching, hungry to be filled, but it never had been, not properly so. This was the evening the baronet would really deflower little Jamie in the way it should have been done -- with Jenkins gone -- the way it had been done for all intents and purposes.
Colfax had waited patiently for this day. Now Jamie would be his and vice versa. They had already explored oral sex together in which Jamie was quite talented and experienced. With so many partners for oral sex, he had needed no lessons. His experience with anal sex was severely limited to one man for a few months. A crude man, a criminal, loutish and unimaginative. His bargain with the boy had been one-sided, coercive even, virtual blackmail. Jamie had taken him as a protector not out of affection but from fear. Yes. the man had deflowered the boy in an act more like rape than lovemaking. The poor lad had to agree to his carnal demands even before he knew what love between males was like.
Worst of all, that wretch Jenkins, a man of the lowest sort, had had the effrontery to precede the baronet, to be the boy's first lover. That was intolerable to his aristocratic pride, an insult that must be wiped out. He had already taken care of Jenkins himself, purchased his bond from his first buyer under a pseudonym and quietly killed and buried him, though not before telling him why he had to die. The damnable man had cursed the baronet when his captor explained that the boy was his, would always be his, and by Jenkin's death, would always have been his. Jenkins death negated his own existence. With the baronet's abilities in lovemaking, Jamie's memories of Jenkins would soon fade away to nothing, replaced by the reality of the baronet's overwhelming presence.
Of course the baronet was more than slightly mad in such imaginings. He could not wipe out the reality of Jenkins by murder and denial. The best he could do is make the boy his own from this point on. To the aristocrat's unbalanced mind, that amounted to the same thing. Which is not to say that he would not try his best be an extraordinarily attentive lover for the young transplanted English lad, and to treat him well. At least till the time came for The Hunt. But that was two years off at the earliest.
Andrew, Third Baronet Colfax led Jamie to the bed and set him on it kneeling. He stripped off his tropical whites, allowing Jamie to see for the first time what his master looked like naked. Tall -- half a foot over six feet (198 cm) -- powerfully built, he had wide shoulders and a deep chest. Only the area around the nipples and the treasure trail down to his navel was covered with dark hair. Jamie gazed up worshipfully as his god was slowly revealed.
Andrew dropped his breeches and stepped out of them. His powerful thighs were nearly smooth and the calves lightly covered with hair, revealing the strength he had built by his own favorite exercises, riding and walking. He caught the boy's gaze and smiled at him as he reached to his belly and loosened his small clothes which fell away. The boy's bright green eyes opened wide in a comical fashion at he took in the sight of his man and his manliness. The baron was hugely endowed, incredibly potent with a cock like a truncheon. In length it was nearly twice the span of the boy's small hands (where the hand span is the width from thumb to the tip of the small finger with the fingers spread wide, not together, which is a hand's-breadth for measuring horses).
"Why are you trembling Jamie? Afraid or just from anticipation?"
"I guess I am a little afraid, sir. You are so huge. I am so small, really tiny back there. Everyone says my hole is tight. I really want you sir, but I am afraid it will hurt."
"Yes it will hurt some; that is unavoidable, though I will be careful, but the initial pain soon turns to pleasure when you are with a man who knows how to make love to a boy. Trust me Jamie. This is going to be the best fuck of your young life."
"Yes, sir, but please be gentle with me."
"Always with a delicate flower like you, Jamie."
He knelt down facing the boy. Andrew's first kisses were soft even tentative, the ones that followed were urgent, demanding. He was all over Jamie, his long dark hair framing his handsome face as he drank in the youth pressed to him. Jamie responded, pressing their tumescent members together, murmuring words of passion as his arousal consumed him. Hands cupped buttocks, the blade of Andrew's hand slid into the lad's cleavage, fingers pushed a lubricating oil into the hole, preparing the lad for the fuck. Lips locked so hard Jamie couldn't breathe. The man was virtually crushing him.
He gasped for air, turned his head and started to lick Andrew large nipples, then snuffled his armpits straining the hair there with his teeth. When the boy's tongue reached the big man's belly button he started to breathe faster. He ruffled Jamie's hair and pushed him lower, demanding service. Jamie turned his face to the giant cock straining upward from a wiry bush and started to lick away the drops welling out of the tiny slit at the end. This drew approving moans from Andrew, as his penis vanished into a velvet warmth that was his boy's mouth. Jamie gently gnashed it with his teeth, tugging on the glans with soft sucks. Andrew spread his legs apart and squirmed, tossing his head. When the hard member was coated and slick Jamie rolled onto his belly.
"I can't wait," he said, his face flushed with ardor. "Please fuck me."
Andrew kissed his shoulder and asked: "Are you sure you are ready?"
"Bless you sir, for asking me, but yes, I am sure. Surer than ever. I want you in me. I need you inside me, all of you, as deep as you can go. Take me, possess me, make me your boy."
This felt so right, making love fully, not just foreplay with fingers and dildos fun though that had been. This was making love. With just a little push from his hips to get past the first sphincter, Andrew's cockhead slipped into Jamie's ass, eliciting a gasp from the boy. Andrew paused, letting his small lover get used to his huge girth. He pushed forward, slipping into him little by little, his arms supporting his weight. When he was a deep as he could go, he was rewarded with a blissful sigh from his partner. Again Andrew gave Jamie time to get used to his girth, then started to pump slowly in and out. He bent down to kiss the back of Jamie's neck, tugging with his teeth at the hair at the nape of his neck.
They fell into a rhythm, Jamie raising his rump to meet the descending shaft as it penetrated his ass, using his internal muscles to squeeze the invading penis, both males sweating profusely. He responded as the boy on the bottom begged him to go deeper and faster.
Jamie loved it when his master's monster cock touched his joy spot, no his prostate, as he had learned to call it. As the invading shaft stimulated the prostate, his whole body shuddered helplessly. His lithe torso rippled in a wave that started at his ass and traveled up past the hips and back and shoulders to the head, a reflex action indicative of overwhelming lust. Jamie felt his guts clutch in an internal orgasm. His green eyes blinked and rolled sightlessly and lost focus as he surrendered himself to the good feelings coursing through him. As the shaft fell into a rhythm of penetration and withdrawal, the sensation became overwhelming. He lost the ability for rational thought for the duration. His body was tempest tossed on a sea of sensation, the blood pounding at his temples, his boy cock as stiff as he could ever remember.
It went on and on, the thrusting and the plunging, Andrew's masculinity pushing into the boy deeper than he had ever felt, till, in the fullness of time, the boy felt a wet warmth flooding his bowels as the baronet, his lord and master in every sense, spewed his seed deep within him, setting off Jamie's own passionate ejaculation onto the sheets.
Jamie sighed in the afterglow of their lovemaking. It had been everything he had wished for. His only regret was that sex for the first time with the baronet could happen only once. It had been a transformational experience for a impressionable lad, only seventeen. More than anything else it confirmed that Jamie was a boy who needed to be fucked hard and often and by a man who knew how.
The two lovers were soon trying out all the positions in that damn book the boy had studied. It wouldn't be long before they explored the delights of the later chapters. He was one bottom boy who knew how to respond to a shag.
The boy was content. He knew he had a bright future ahead of him. He was healthy, had work that he enjoyed, good companionship, and now a great lover and fantastic sex.
The next day Jamie was surprised to learn that from now on, he would occupy the House of Pleasure though still taking his meals with the other servants at their lodge. He was pleased to have a place to himself. Moving in took no time at all. The boy had no 'effects' to move: no clothing, no equipment, no personal items, nothing.
He lay on the bed and spread his limbs wide in an X. All this was now his, a place to rest and a place to play. He had everything material he needed within his skin. What concern did a naked joy boy have with possessions, especially given that he himself was a possession -- the baronet's property.
For one uneasy moment, it struck him that this was an example of animal husbandry, moving a breeding farm animal to a new stall. The boy lived much like a farm animal did, after all. Like a head of livestock he was owned, branded, naked, fed, groomed, trained and put to work, and now bred by the owner.
In the House of Pleasure, the big bedroom would give him privacy for his sessions with the baronet. It gave them a place to meet separate from the big house with its occasional visitors. The baronet entertained occasionally and so needed to keep his hobby of bedding pretty boys separate from the social whirl of the island plantocracy.
Eventually, when he was given library privileges, the classroom doubled as his study, the boy using the comfortable chair in the corner he had previously not been allow to sit in. Of course he usually read in a cane chair on the small verandah attached to the House or stretched out on the grass kept short by the sheep the baronet had around the place for just that purpose, the eighteenth century version of a lawn mower.
Morgan and the baronet were always gratified with how much curvature a slender kid like Jamie could display lying belly down, propped on elbows with legs spread apart. From the front, he looked so, well flat, though corrugated with rippled abs, pecs, ribs, and nicely formed muscles, but his fawn-like physique was the very opposite of the bulging muscles of a strong man. From the rear, the boy was all curves: the calves, the thighs, the firm globes of the buttocks, the swale of the lower back, the slope up to the shoulder blades which formed winglets on his upper back, the cylinder of his neck and finally the twin spheres and tubular cock lying so enticingly between the fork of the legs.
Two years later, the baronet sat in his gallery, looking through his portfolios of Jamie at ages 16, 17, 18, and now just 19. In a startling change from prior practice, for each of those years, the baronet had put two portraits of Jamie in his gallery of naked ones. There were now eight in all. Should he extend the series, he wondered. Double his time on the plantation, and Jamie would still be within a boy's peak years, 16 to 22. Should he keep the boy at his side for a full five years? More? He was tempted. None of the naked ones had excited him like Jamie or made him feel so tender towards a boy.
Outwardly Jamie was little changed from the day of his arrival except that his hair reached the top of his shoulder blades. Colfax would not let Jamie cut it, despite the hot climate and the bother it was to take care of. His height finally did hit five-five exactly, by adding that final fractional inch. He was the same weight, eight stone and three, though with more in his upper storey and a bit less around the waist and hips. He was incredibly cut and defined, without a scrap of extra flesh. Completely hairless of course. They had finally used the voodoo lotion on his face after the first bit of fuzz sprouted on his cheeks.
What wasn't so obvious at first was the firmness of his musculature and his stamina. As agile as a monkey and as limber as a cat, Jamie was breathtakingly fit. He ran and climbed and swam all the time these days, in the afternoon, after his gardening chores, of course. He might be the proprietor's 'naked one' but the baronet tolerated no idle hands among his servants. The last thing he wanted in a lover was a soft, pampered, and indolent drone.
The way he traipsed about the plantation, utterly unself-conscious about nudity after years without clothing. Rather like an animal wasn't it. He seemed to accept that clothing was not for him, ever. By now his feet had toughened with thick calluses, at least as effective as moccasins. His naked beauty was a constant and welcome reminder of the concupiscence he aroused in so many, especially his master.
It had been a good three years very nearly -- years filled with rapture, joy, excitement, and even adventure, like the time they had gone for a long walk together and been caught by a storm across the raging creek and had to risk fording it. The boy would have drowned had not the powerful arms of the baronet wrapped themselves around his small rain slicked body and held him firmly. Their lovemaking that night had been especially tender and sweet, both males realizing how close they had come to losing each other.
Andrew took Jamie from behind as they lay on their sides, a position allowing for languid movements and easy pauses instead of the more energetic ways Colfax usually made love to to Jamie: on his back with his heels in the air, on all fours taken boy bitch style, or straddling the baronet's hips. As Andrew spent himself into his lover, Jamie spurted his seed onto the sheets. Andrew swiped the milky fluid up with his finger and offered it to Jamie, then took a taste of it itself.
The baronet was a thoughtful lover, not with material gifts, for the boy remained as before, and by the baronet's intent, completely without possessions. The baronet was generous with his attentions and his time. He was always ready to talk to the boy. He knew the boy had a good head on his shoulders and an insatiable curiosity. That is why he gave the boy library privileges. Jamie just had to be sure to put a slip of note paper on the shelf where the book had been and write the title to let Andrew know that the book was not misplaced, just borrowed.
They spent many happy hours talking about tales of adventure like Robinson Crusoe which Jamie was gratified to learn was based on a real life incident of a mariner marooned on an island off the coast of Chile. They both enjoyed Gulliver's travels, in modern times often considered a children's tale, but the original was a biting social and political satire, much of which the baronet had to explain to his rather naive lover.
The baronet taught Jamie to play chess. The youth was turning into a fair player who sometimes gave Andrew a real challenge, though his pawn game was still weak. They had started playing seated across a table, but Jamie's diminutive stature, just over a foot shorter than his master, meant he was always looking up at Andrew. One day, before the baronet showed up for their game, Jamie swung the table around a quarter circle and set up the board near one end, where Andrew would sit. Then Jamie parked himself on the table itself seated with legs folded and crossed. As the baronet entered the room, he was greeted by the sight of the full curvature of the boy from shoulders to hips, to perky butt. That brought a smile to his features. Now he could drink in all of Jamie's beauty as they played.
It happened though that the game went against Andrew that day. He gave his young opponent a sardonic look, one eyebrow raised.
"I see now that you did this only to distract me. Shameless lad!" He charged in mock annoyance.
Jamie responeded with his second best expression of injured innocence, as if to ask: "Who me?"
Colfax chuckled then turned his attention back to their game, frowning in concentration, knowing Jamie was one pawn up on him. Aburptly he realized distraction was a game two could play at. He reached out and fondled the lovely genitals on display and conveniently so near to hand, murmuring,
"J'adoube."
(Which was what a player said when he touched a chess piece merely to adjust its position on the board, without intending to play it. Otherwise a touch would count as a turn.)
Jamie snorted at this less than subtle distraction, but his body decided it was a welcome one; his cock plumped up and began to lift off as his pulse pounded. The boy glared at his traitorous member, drawing so much blood away from his brain, but it did no good, especially once the baronet tweaked the head of the cock as it slid out of its sheath.
"Please, Andrew." Jamie was allowed to use his first name when alone with the older man.
"Tut, tut, little one. Turn about is fair play."
Poor Jamie lost his concentration entirely as hormones flooded his bloodstream. Within four moves he had to resign the game. At least the baronet was considerate enough to give him a deep kiss as he got up to leave, which turned into a full shag as his master suddenly dragged the boy to the edge of the table, threw him onto his back, and lifted his legs into the air. With much giggling and mock protestations, the two enjoyed either other yet once again.
Andrew sometime played at cat's cradle with the lad, where the boy's small hands and nimble fingers gave him the advantage. The game was one of the happy memories the baronet had of his mother, who had died when he was only nine. The loss and his father's tyranny and coldness to him had been the first shock to unhinge the young baronet's mind.
Chapter 6. The Hunt
Jamie still was not allowed anywhere else in the house, and he was careful not to let his natural curiosity get the better of him and had done nothing naughtier than to peek into the gallery of the naked ones, gratified to see so many more pictures of himself than any of his predecessors.
Still there were clouds on the horizon. The baronet would not answer questions about the other naked ones except to dismiss them as ancient history. He got brusque if pressed. Another sore point was any mention of Will Jenkins. Even a passing mention one night that Will was his first lover brought an expression of cold fury to the baronet's aristocratic features. Even Jan Van Wyck would not talk to Jamie about the other naked ones who had preceded him.
The baronet had become given to mood swings of late. Once again he was thinking about hunting. Damn this isolation on Jamaica, an island with no big game to speak of. Spanish Florida held panthers, yes. Rather small though compared to the tigers he had shot in India. Yes there were jaguars in Spanish America, but he had taken their measure. Shooting dumb animals had become a bore. He had heard that the elephants of Africa were even larger than the Indian variety and the Cape Buffalo a wily powerful beast, but he did not care to venture into their habitat, pestilential regions aptly called the White Man's Graveyard.
Now The Hunt, that was something else. Always different because the game was intelligent, not merely instinctual. And because he put at risk not only his own life, but that of a boy he loved. At least he thought he loved his naked ones. Never before like Jamie though. That lad was different. Not only a lover but a companion. Pure and wanton, submissive and assertive, bookish and athletic. A study in contradiction. Except for Jamie he had had only one other boy at Colfax Plantation during the five years, and he had gotten snake bitten a year before Jamie arrived, before Colfax had deflowered him properly
Should he call a Hunt? He hadn't done so in over four years, politely declining invitations from the other members of the club who were still hunting. Did he really want to? Was his blood lust still strong. Should he deprive himself of the boy's company. Could he? Had he fallen so far under his spell? He knew the boy had fallen under his. Utterly devoted no matter how many of the staff he frolicked with on the side. Was his affection for the boy Jamie so weak?. He wrote his thoughts down in his journal.
One day, quite by chance as Jamie scanned the library shelves he noticed a fine leather bound volume with no title on its spine. He pulled it off the shelf and glanced at it. It was the journal, Andrew's journal. Jamie was intrigued. Finally he would know more of his mysterious lover's hidden past.
Eagerly he started reading, but soon found himself skimming the book, shocked, appalled, and afraid. It was a record of Colfax's hunts, his manhunts or maybe boy-hunts was a better description. His own lovers were the naked prey that Colfax had released on a deserted island, tracked down and shot dead! Just over a dozen of them in eight years, ending four years earlier. Suddenly the vigorous physical training made sense. It wasn't just to make a boy look his best and to perform well in bed. It was to make him better sport for the hunt. And his gallery of portraits were really trophy heads!
His mind in a whirl, feeling betrayed and afraid. Jamie hurriedly replaced the book on the shelf and fled to an isolated bower on the grounds and cried his heart out. He did not know what to do. What options did he have: an indentured servant, penniless, without political influence. Would it do any good to denounce the baronet to the authorities? The governor in Spanish Town was a relation. Did the white cadre know about the hunts?.
There was the journal. If he did flee to the authorities he would have to bring it with him as proof. Otherwise it would be his word against the baronet's, and they would just hand him back as a runawqy indenture. He would have to lay his plans carefully, only snatching the book at the last moment before fleeing. Meanwhile he would try to act normally, as if nothing were wrong.
Alas Jamie had entirely too much confidence in his abilities as a thespian. He had passed Morgan on his way to supper barely acknowledging the man, thinking surely he must know. Jamie could not trust him. Morgan was startled by the boy's cold demenanor. He mentioned to the baronet that Jamie's face was tear streaked from crying. What could be wrong?
Then in bed that night, the boy's attitude was a giveaway. However much he tried to be his usual self, it was obvious the boy was afraid, terrified even. Sudden fear clutched at the big man's belly. If the boy was suddenly terrified of the baronet, it could mean only one thing. He knew.
Colfax concluded their lovemaking early. Jamie was so relieved he did not realize his lover's suspicions. Colfax raced over to the big house to check his library. Yes, the journal was on the shelf alright, but not quite in the right place and not lined up with the others to both sides. Obviously the boy had chanced upon it, taken it down, and looked through it.
Colfax was sick at heart. He had not yet made up his mind about a hunt and had seriously thought about sparing the lad, at least for a few more years, and only decide then. They would have been happy together. Why oh why did Jamie have to go and spoil everything, to dash Andrew's hopes and dreams for their future. The baronet cried as he had not cried since the death of his mother as a boy. He stumbled into the gallery and looked at Jamie's portraits, sick at heart: lovesick, heartsick, afraid, disheartened, and finally angry.
The loss of those years they might have spent together struck him as intolerable. Here Jamie had forced his hand. It was all his fault. Let it be on his head then.
Five days later, the baronet and two fellow hunters put out to sea. Their schooner would carry them to the deserted island the Hunt Club used as a private preserve. The boy Jamie and three others were in the hold below, though no longer bound and gagged as they had been when brought aboard.
Colfax was still angry. Angry at the boy. Angry at Morgan who had confronted him as he loaded the boy into a light wagon for the trip to the port.
"Where are you taking that boy? Why is he bound and gagged? My God! You have drugged him."
"Stand down, Mr. Morgan. He is mine to do with as I will. Do not try my patience. I made you, and I can break you."
Morgan was afraid for the boy, no the young man he had come to love. But the baronet had the law on his side. Any interference by Morgan would be a crime in itself, and the baronet was armed, as was Van Wyck. Also Colfax had information on Morgan that would put him on the gallows. Back in England, Morgan had been involved in Jacobite intrigues to restore the Stuarts to the thrones of England and Scotland.
Jan Van Wyck was along on the voyage as first mate. Only he of all the white cadre on the plantation knew about the Hunt. He had taken part in one himself, as the quarry, the only one of Colfax's naked ones to actually survive for six days on the island and to reap the reward of freedom and a well-paid job. He went from penniless and naked indentured servant and bum boy to comfortably paid overseer at the plantation. Although his boyish looks suggested otherwise, he had been ambivalent about his role as a bum boy, exciting and arousing as it had been. He liked to top too but never got the chance when in service as a naked one. Now he got to play with the boys that came his way.
Two days into the voyage, the hunters released the boys from their captivity. With nowhere to go, they were allowed the run of the deck so that sunshine, fresh air and exercise would keep them healthy. All the boys were apprehensive. Jamie had told them what their fate would be. Colfax and Jamie studiously avoided each other for most of the long voyage. Finally the baronet called him over.
"This is your fault Jamie. You should have trusted me. Given me a chance."
"Trusted you? Trusted you not to kill me after all those others? I loved you Andrew. Part of me still does, but I am afraid of you. You betrayed my love. How could you, after what we had together? What kind of a monster are you?" He said, stalking off.
"A lonely one." Colfax whispered too softly for the boy to hear him. Suddenly his eyes watered at the sight of the beauty he would soon destroy.
A rain squall tossed the ship around the next day, but the seas turned calm afterwards.
"I don't like sailing in hurricane season, Colfax," said one of the other hunters. A florid man named Hawking, he was never a good sailor even at the best of times.
"He has a point, Andrew, you know." said a lean hatchet faced man named Barrett. "You called this hunt with very little notice. That is why only the three of us could get away from our business affairs."
"Yes, my friend, I did, and I have explained why. The boy forced my hand. It was time. Besides you had your own quarry just about ready, two boys in your case Barrett."
"I just wish the islands were not so far away," Hawking added.
Their destination was the islands named for Fernando de Noronha, an archipelago in the Atlantic Ocean nearly 200 nautical miles (350 km) off the coast of Brazil at the point it juts out farthest into the South Atlantic Ocean. Its islets and rocks were the tops of a submerged mountain range, volcanic in origin. Situated just four degrees south of the Equator, it had a tropical climate with two seasons: the wet season lasting eight months of the year and a dry season from September to December.
Their course was southeast, across the Caribbean, through the Windward Islands, then into the open sea paralleling the north coast of South America, a straight line of some 3,000 miles. Sailing in the face of the trade winds, their ship had to tack back and forth till they got past the aptly named Windward Islands. Still they made landfall safe and sound, dropping anchor in a cove on the southwest corner of the heavily forested main island.
"How ideally this island suits our purpose, Colfax," Hawking observed. "Completely unpopulated with no nation claiming it at the moment."
The islands had been discovered by the Portuguese a few years after the first voyage of Columbus, later seized by the English for twenty years, then the French for sixty more. In the seventeenth century it changed hands four times between the Dutch and the Portuguese only to be abandoned once more. Now it was a terra nullius, a land belonging to no man and ideal for their purpose. It was unclaimed, too far from shipping lanes to interest pirates, uninhabited and, though well-watered, really too small for a settlement. The main island was about 6 miles long (10 km) and a third as wide for surface area of about 7 square miles (18 km2). That was large enough to furnish their quarry a sporting chance but not so large they could get lost in the wilderness.
Unknown to the hunters, Van Wyck had sided with Jamie, giving him a map of the island to memorize and showed him the trails and where to find food, water, shelter, and places to hide. He pointed out the two crumbling forts where he might find an old sword or some other weapon. He urged Jamie to recruit the other boys and plan for concerted action. They should decide on rallying points in case they became separated. Jamie was grateful and stifled his resentment at how the young man had kept silent these last three years when he might have warned Jamie.
"How did you escape the hunt, Jan, when they went after you?", Jamie asked.
"I hid out in a storm. They almost had me the second day but then a storm blew in. It rained heavily for three days, washing out footprints. At times the downpour was so heavy you could hardly see to walk though they tried. It helped that I was naked anyway. I just slid along the ground on my belly, low to the ground, scampering like a lizard. The last day, everything was so muddy and waterlogged they couldn't hunt at all. I turned up two days later at the landing point and turned myself in. It was that or starve. Colfax was true to his word. I'll give him that."
He also explained that before the storm he had relied on his woodcraft to keep ahead of the hunters. Jan had been transported at age fifteen for poaching. The main problem for the quarry was drinking water. The hunters would look for the boys wherever there were fresh water sources. Their numbers on this hunt were too small to stake out all the water sources as in previous hunts, but they would check them from time to time, whether directly or by observation through a spyglass.
In his own defense, Jan said he thought that after four years Colfax had given up the hunt. He had seen that the baronet had fallen deeply in love with his latest naked one and hoped he would spare Jamie. To be fair, Van Wyck was only making what he could of a bad situation and hoping for the best for all.
"This hunt is going to be different," Jamie assured the other three boys.
"How? They have guns, we are naked and unarmed. What chance do we have?"
"Every chance. We have at least three advantages the other boys did not have. First, we know what is coming. Second we have studied the map, so we know the ground. Third, we can plan how we will work together to survive."
"So what is your plan, Jamie?"
"We split up and force them to divide their forces, but rendezvous so we can attack one of them alone. If we can get his weapons, we will have a chance against the other two."
The other boys were impressed with the good sense in the plan. Certainly neither Allen nor Will nor Eric had anything better to offer. However only Eric was really familiar with firearms. The rest had some idea but that was all. Well the men would also have machetes or knives or maybe swords. Jamie knew one thing, when they did strike back the boys would have to be quick and surprise the hunters. In a stand up brawl, they would not have a chance.
Neither of their masters had insisted on nudity full-time for his boys but they had all embraced the chance to be entirely free of clothing, to ignore the conventions of society, to flaunt their youth and physical beauty, to show off their nicely rounded rumps and their proud cocks. Eric had even asked his master to burn his few items of clothing. Thanks to the Voodoo lotion, all the boys were hairless. Hawking took his boy to bed only twice a week, if that, mainly because Eric was available and pretty, though his major interest was the hunt itself. Barrett had fucked his lads Allen and Will much more frequently. They were all healthy limber lads though none had been so thoroughly trained as Jamie.
Although they were thrown in together and nude, none of them was interested in sex. This was not a time for frolic.
On the last evening, Colfax had Jamie brought to his cabin, sat him down and offered him wine. Why not Jamie thought. A little wine would steady his nerves, maybe help him sleep this final night aboard. Colfax was in a pensive mood, wanting to talk about how Jamie had come into his life, how he had spotted him at the auction, how much he had laughed at the matron who had scorned Jamie for a boy of thirteen when he was closer to seventeen than sixteen, and Jamie's own mortification and full body blush. He talked of how well Jamie took to his physical training and then to his training in lovemaking. Through all this Jamie made only the briefest of comments or replies to direct questions. Finally Colfax pulled Jamie onto his lap, stroking the boy's hair, smelling it, kissing the back of his neck, rubbing his belly.
"Oh, Jamie. I have missed you. I hated you at first for forcing my hand, but I cannot hate you any longer. You are different from the other boys. I really fell in love with you. We might have spent our whole lives together..."
With tears in his eyes, he pressed Jamie to him. The boy responded, partly from hope that even now he could dissuade the baronet from his purpose, partly from his own deep feelings for the older man. Andrew led Jamie over to his bunk and put Jamie onto it then rapidly disrobed. They embraced and made love with a desperation and an urgency never felt before. Unusually, Jamie was on top, straddling Andrew's hips, impaled on the man's cock. He repeatedly raised his rump then let it slump back, driving the huge member deep into his body. Colfax reached out to tweak Jamie's tiny red nipples, tugging, twisting, rolling, pinching. Jamie's nipple were extremely sensitive to manipulation, almost like another joy spot. The boy shuddered, incredibly aroused, as the pain in his chest shot through his torso to his belly, triggering an even bigger wave of heat, setting his ass muscles to clutching at the shaft buried deep in his body.
Both males shook with the power of their lust, sweat making their bodies slick. Andrew swiped Jamie's brow and presented his fingers for the boy to taste his own sweat. They kissed, tongues thrusting and probing. They pressed this lips and their bodies together, taking in the very smells of their lover, the sweet scent of boy mixed with a hint of the wine he had consumed, the sharper scent of the man mixed with a whiff of tobacco from one of the small Spanish cigars he occasionally indulged in.
Afterwards, they clung together for a very long time. Colfax finally rose and slipped on a robe and left the cabin to pace the deck, leaving Jamie asleep in his bed. He rejoined him later, slipping in beside the boy carefully so as not to wake him, and slept with the boy he loved in his arms. The next morning, Colfax woke Jamie by a gentle shake on the shoulder. For a moment the boy was confused about where he was and why, reaching out as always to his master. Then he remembered, expressions of fear and hope raced across in his exquisite features.
"I am sorry Jamie. I cannot stop this. It is too late for that, too late for both of us. Now that you know their names, Barrett and Hawking cannot let you live."
Colfax's heart almost broke as he saw the last hope die in Jamie's eyes. Stone-faced the boy left him.
The hunting party and their quarry landed on the island. Their naked prey got three hours head start. After that they were fair game. Any who survived after six days could report back to the ship after hearing the firing of the chaser (a small canon), the recall signal. Their lives would be spared and they would be set free and offered a choice of a job or a sum of money.
The boys looked fearful, their limbs trembling, looking over at the hunters nervously, partly for real partly to lend verisimilitude to their staged argument on shore about whether to stick together or make it every man for himself. As they ran off separately, the hunters had no idea that the boys were operating according to a plan. The hunters sighed at the sight of so much youthful male pulchritude that would soon be destroyed. The four youths really were lovely, toned, tanned, smooth limbed, running off like deer into the forest.
Three youths made obvious trails as if they running in panic to get as far from the hunters as they could. Jamie crept carefully for two miles to the area he had chosen for an ambush, a rocky cliff overlooking the sea. The trail ran along the top of the cliff with thick forest beginning a few yards from the brink. As Eric lead Hawking up the trail, Jamie worked frantically with a sharp stone to cut a long vine off at the roots. (It is only in Tarzan movies that vines have free ends dangling to the ground.) At the top it clung to a big tree over forty feet above the ground. Jamie stationed himself on a branch away from the path to give him enough room for a good swing. Eric ran past, leading Hawking into the trap. Suddenly a shot rang out. The boy clutched his belly and went down.
Disaster loomed. Not only was Eric down, but Hawking was nowhere near in position for Jamie's attack. Gamely Eric dragged his wounded body up the trail for a ways then turned to face his killer. He shouted curses at him, glancing only once to satisfy himself that his comrade was in position and ready to avenge him. Hawking was having too much fun to think of possible danger to himself. He chortled as he walked slowly toward his prey. Smiling he said to the boy.
"Even if what you said about my ancestry were true, it is you sweet Eric who is going to meet his ancestors sooner that I."
At the very last second he heard a swoosh and half turned but not in time. Jamie's compact body slammed into his chest feet first, cracking his ribs. Hawking had time for only a shout of surprise when he went over the cliff, falling headfirst thirty feet to his death. Jamie swung back and let go of the vine, took one look, then raced over to his friend.
"Did we get the bastard, Jamie?"
"Yes, we did it, Eric. His head is split open and his brains are all over the rocks below. Now let's see what we can do for you."
"Sorry Jamie, but there is nothing to do for me but give me a Christian burial. This is a pretty island. Bury me here."
Then, his courage slipping only a little, he groaned.
"I am too young to die!", but he did.
Jamie cried as he laid his friend out with arms crossed as if in prayer, then slid down a vine to the base of the cliff. Unfortunately, the flintlock on the man's rifle had been smashed, but Jamie got his machete, a pistol, some balls and black powder, and a water bottle. He undid the man's broad leather belt and put it around his waist, though he had to punch a hole in it for his small waist. The belt would keep his hands free and still let him carry the pistol, and ammunition, machete and water bottle. In the heavy man's pockets he found a sandwich, a meat pie, and a couple of apples that the man had brought with him for lunch.
As arranged the boys made their first rendezvous and at nightfall crept into their first hiding place. Their hides were scratched from pushing through the underbrush. At night, they were bothered by insects, though as an island far out at sea, less than on Jamaica. They were dusty, sore, and tired but alive. They shared the sandwich but kept the rest for the next day, the first full day on the island. If they could forage other food, they would save the meat pie and apples for the third day. The three remaining boys slept together, bodies touching for reassurance.
Allen and Will kissed a bit, lovers that they were, but no one suggested sex. Time enough for that if they lived. The moon was nearly full, shining its silvery light on the slender naked bodies of the trio, three pretty youths, inexplicably thrown up on this inhospitable shore.
On shore in sight of their ship, the other two hunters signaled fruitlessly with their horns but got no reply from Hawking. They returned to the ship, uncertain about what had happened but got more and more concerned when Hawking did not join them for dinner. Nor was there any response to the sound of the recall signal with the small cannon.
The next day, Colfax and Barrett off, this time together so they could watch each other's back. The hunters followed Hawking's trail and found his body along with that of Eric. They also saw that his weapons had been taken. This hunt would now require greater caution on their part. Still they had the experience and their rifles the greater range, and now they had yet another reason to hunt their quarry down and kill them. Maybe Hawking was not the most convivial of men, but he was a member of the Hunt Club, the only one to perish at the hands of his naked prey. He must be avenged.
Jamie had decided to keep the machete for himself and gave the pistol the ammunition and the belt to Allen who thought he was up to handling it. though he had never shot anything except a fowling piece and only a few times. Jamie had no experience with guns and hardly knew how to load one.
The hunt went on for two more days, their knowledge of the terrain and their youthful endurance and speed keeping the boys ahead of the pursuit. Patches of volcanic rock and packed soil, and criss-crossing tracks made it hard for the hunters to track the boys.
On the fourth day, Colfax and Barrett pretended to split up while Colfax circled around, trapping Jamie in a cul de sac blocked on three sides by volcanic rock. Jamie crept into a briar, ignoring the minor tears from its thorns, crouching in the low open space below the branches closest to the earth. He hoped the hunters did not know where he was for sure. Maybe he could wait them out till dark, then slip away to the next rendezvous.
Unfortunately Jamie's long blond locks had been his undoing. No color stands out against the green of forest and jungle like corn yellow. Too bad the boy had not thought of camouflage, darkening the color with mud or maybe weaving a cap of leaves. A flash of yellow as he dove into the briar had caught the older man's eye. Barrett dashed Jamie's hopes of just lying low till nightfall, calling out:
"Come out of there, boy, or we will set this briar on fire. You can roast or come out. Stand up, and die like a man."
With no choice really, Jamie complied. He contemplated a rush with the blade but saw that the two hunters had put a tangle of low thorn bushes between them which would trip him up. He let the machete fall from his fingers.
"Your boy, your shot, Colfax." Barrett said, magnanimously, a smile of satisfaction on his face for having tracked the boy down.
Colfax raised his weapon and pointed it at the boy he loved. Jamie stood tall, or as tall as his slight build permitted, and looked at Andrew, resigned and pained, with sorrow and longing for their lost love in his eyes. The barrel wavered, then fell away.
"I ... I can't." Colfax said in a low voice, a look of anguish on his face as he drank in the sight of Jamie standing there so bravely, awaiting death, afraid but unbowed.
"Well, I can!" Barrett growled, raising his rifle to his shoulder.
"No!" Colfax shouted discharging his weapon into the man's torso.
"Bastard!" Barrett shouted as he fell to one knee and shot Colfax in the side.
Both then let go of their weapons and fell to the earth.
Jamie rushed to Colfax and tore open his shirt, seeing how bad the wound was. It was very bad indeed. Colfax was bleeding profusely and would soon bleed out. Jamie looked about for some way to help Colfax, to staunch the flow of blood. Maybe he could bind up the wound and get him to the ship. He could send one of the other boys for help. Yes, sailors from the ship. The captain knew something of healing. He spoke in a rush, babbling really, about how he would save the man who had, in the end, saved him.
"Don't, Jamie, don't. The wound is mortal. It must have hit my spleen. I am dying, as I must for my many crimes."
Jamie's eyes filled with tears as he pleaded with the baronet. "Please don't die. I don't want you to die." He wailed.
"It is out of our hands, Jamie. You did save me, you know. You saved my soul. I could never have survived your death anyway, so my life was over no matter what happened. But you will live. Don't think too harshly of me, Jamie.
The boy shook his head, No, Andrew, never. I love you with all my heart."
"I know that Jamie. That is what saved me from my madness. I love y..."
And so died Andrew, Third Baronet Colfax, finally wholly sane, his last act a selfless one -- saving the life of the beautiful and brave young man he had come to love.
Epilogue
They buried Eric on the island per his wish and as just one body too many to explain. Van Wyck brought the ship to Pernambuco in Brazil. They reported the deaths of the three hunters and arranged a funeral and burial in the local Protestant cemetery since the bodies would not keep for a voyage of three thousand miles. (The cemetery was a relic of a quarter century of Dutch rule a hundred years earlier.) Burial at sea was not an option. They had to establish, as a legal fact, that the three men had died accidentally, not from foul play.
Fortunately no one questioned that both Barrett and Colfax had shot each other, as indeed they had. A ball of a caliber matching the other man's weapon was extracted from each of their bodies. Even if it had been a quarrel, the guilty were dead. Hawking's death was put down to an accidental fall from a cliff. There were no signs he had been pushed. Van Wyck and the 'servant boys' who were now dressed in garb borrowed from the crew were never suspected of wrongdoing. The coroner's court declared for three deaths by misadventure. The hunters had set out to kill peccaries and met their own deaths.
Jan Van Wyck then brought the ship back to Jamaica sure that the boy would keep silent about The Hunt as he had promised the dying baronet. The authorities in Jamaica accepted the tale of a hunting accident and a fall based on the report of the Portuguese authorities at Pernambuco. In the wake of the disaster, the Hunt Club quietly disbanded. It never had had more than eight members at any one time. Two years later the French took control of the islands for a few years till the Portuguese kicked them out. The archipelago of Fernando de Noronha remained under Portuguese control till Brazilian independence almost a century later.
Colfax's last will and testament freed Jamie from his indenture, not by name but under a general provision in the document. The title and the English estate entailed with it plus his English investments went to a distant cousin. A codicil filed just before Colfax sailed on his ill-fated voyage left the plantation and much of Colfax's fortune to Jamie. The bequest was made either in the event of his death or the baronet's failure to return from the voyage within two months, which was to be construed as evidence of his death. He must have suspected that he might not come back from this final hunt, conflicted as his heart was. (The new baronet did not contest the bequest to Jamie to avoid a scandal about a bum boy as Andrew's secondary heir.)
Morgan and Jamie moved into the big house and managed the plantation as a team. Master though he now was, the boy wore clothing only when he absolutely had to, such as for visits to Kingston or to the capital at Spanish Town.
They left the gallery as a memorial to the slain boys. Morgan continued the tradition of commissioning annual portraits of Jamie.
Under the will, each of the white cadre got the generous sum of two hundred pounds. Van Wyck stayed on at the plantation, occasionally joining Morgan and Jamie for frolic. Samson and Beulah each got one hundred pounds and were manumitted as well. They married immediately and bought a small farm nearby which Samson worked while Beulah stayed on as a cook at the plantation, now working part-time for good wages. As his wedding gift, Jamie built them a real house with four rooms, all with glass windows, a separate kitchen (a safety feature of houses in those days for protection from fires), and a shaded porch.
Jamie bought out the indentures of Allen and Will and freed them. They paired off and started a tavern with their freedom dues, taking a third partner as front man and barkeep. The boy's served tables and were available as companions. Taking a pirate theme, they dressed outrageously in tight, nearly sheer, low slung breeches that left little to the imagination with a buccaneer's kerchief on the back of their heads. Many sailors had developed a taste for 'sea pussy' and were happy for the chance to take a clean boy to bed. Once word got out how completely hairless their bodies were and how talented and shameless they were in the sack, their fortune was assured.
Jamie did not want to own slaves, but mass emancipation was not possible under the law. He instituted a system of wages for his slaves with a portion withheld to enable them to eventually buy their freedom. Within fifteen years, all the labor on the plantation was free. That made it much less profitable, but Jamie and Morgan had simple tastes. They cared nothing for ostentation or for cutting a figure in society.
Years later, anti-slavery reformers would point to the financial success of the former Colfax plantation as proof that free labor could work on the sugar islands. Their opponents countered with the undeniable truth that it was much less profitable run that way. It would be a hundred years before Britain abolished slavery in its colonies.