'What are you doing here, little one?' he whispered, 'come into the chart-house. I'll take the wheel,' he said to the attendant pirate. 'Tell the electrician to keep the searchlight continually to the East. Tell the chief he must be prepared to let his engines go at the shortest notice-all out, mind you, and notify me the moment we pick anything up.'
Hony and the young man were left alone. The moon streamed through the chart-house windows, illuminating her fair, delicate beauty, and she looked very alluring. The young man began to explain the compass to her, and she pressed very close to him. He curved his ankle round hers and, with semi-flapperish timidity and semi-womanly lust, she laid her hand on his neck. The ensuing kiss was a long and luscious one.
'Would you like to try and steer, little darling?' he whispered, 'she answers to a finger touch, but mind you mustn't let go for a minute, or we might all go to the bottom-there,' and he drew her in front of him and placed her dainty little hands on the wheel. 'Keep her head south-sou-west I'll stand behind you and see you make no mistake.'
He did stand behind her-and something else was standing too- and his hands wandered. First a caress of the dainty, fluffy hair, a kiss on the slender white neck, and then-well, something more serious.
Hony's skirts were very short and needed little raising. The young man caressed the daintily-moulded calves, felt a passionate thrill as his fingers felt the bare flesh above her stocking, and burned as they touched the intermediate summit of the thighs where so lately the other little girl's tongue had been so busily employed.
Hony struggled, or wriggled would perhaps be the better term, and took one hand off the wheel as if to resist.
'No, no, you mustn't do that or the ship may go to the bottom.'
She put back her hand, and his hand went once more to the bottom-his other hand was busy unfastening certain inconvenient buttons.
Hony knew what was coming. She was a virgin, but she knew a lot. Possibly in a room she would not have let him, but she was romantic and the novel situation struck her as extraordinarily appropriate for her first fall.
'After all,' she reasoned, as she let the New Decameron slip off a point, 'it's got to come sooner or later, and this will be something to remember, but I do wish I could see him, and not watch this beastly compass.'
It was a novel situation: a mere child, with a million pounds' worth of human and concrete wealth beneath her, taking the fastest ship in the world to 'what she knew not of,' and a man, world-famous, though she did not know it, breathing his hot breath on her neck, and even now pressing a hot, stiff bar of flesh between the thighs.
The tip had just touched the lips of her vagina when the telephone bell rang. With a muttered curse the young man sprang back.
The bell rang furiously.
'Yes, yes.'
'Steamer, sir, on the port bow. Cruiser, I dunk.'
Fumbling his standing penis, the young man seized his glasses and rushed out on to the bridge.
It was like a cruiser. Focused in the round glare of the searchlight two ugly funnels surmounted a dark hull-heading straight for the New Decameron.
He rushed back into the chart-room. He did not take Hony's little hands from the wheel. The humour of the situation, though his neck was in a potential noose, appealed to him: the little darling should keep the helm in the hour of peril. Leaning over her shoulders, his fingers on hers, he put the wheel hand over, and with a swish of waters the New Decameron changed her course.
A few rapid orders through the speaking tube and the ship was plunged in darkness; the searchlight went out with a click, and the 'pirate' was running for what might possibly mean her existence.
It might be life or death the young man knew, but nature was too strong for him.
'Keep her dead on that point, little darling,' he whispered, 'and don't be frightened; it's nothing.'
Rapidly he tore his trousers open. 'All the bloody navies in the world can go to hell,' he muttered, 'I'm going to have her.'
There was no light but the dull glimmer from the compass, but the young man had the vision of the beautiful girl in his mind as he pressed his cock into her little vagina. She shuddered; it hurt horribly, but she was mad with excitement and stretched her legs to the widest. The platform on which she was standing made their heights correspond and with a few thrusts the young man had won his way through the coveted gate.
It was quick. Hony, not daring to quit her eyes from the needle of the compass, after the first few pangs of agony quivered with mad pleasure. She felt the hot kisses on her hair, her neck, her ears, her cheek, and the extraordinary sensation of that living bar of flesh within her, seemingly a part of her.
With a grip of his arms round her waist that nearly suffocated her, the young man spent. Hony could feel the mingled blood and sperm trickling down her legs, and was just wondering what on earth mother would say, when a blinding glare of light filled the chart-room. The vessel's searchlight had found them. She turned her frightened little face to the young man, and their lips met in a loving kiss-to her dying day Hony will remember that kiss.
There was a patter of swiftly running steps on the gangway. 'Get below, little darling,' said the young man snatching a final kiss, 'and don't be frightened.'
A ship loomed up, almost on top of them, and the young man heaved a sigh of relief. The press of a button and the New Decameron was once more flooded with light.
Two of the pirates came into the chart-house, and at the same moment the telephone rang furiously.
'One of the prisoners, sir,' said the attendant pirate, 'must see you, and seems very excited.'
Herr Kunst's voice screamed up the wire. 'Der ship, der ship,' he cried, 'der diamond ship. I know der code of der vireless; stop her, catch her: she has der millions on board in. I charge you twenty-five per cent, ain't it?'
A brief message to Heir Kunst, and in two minutes the young man was in his cabin in communication with his wireless operator.
Herr Kunst joined them, breathless. 'I know der code, I know der code,' he gasped. 'Answer him, “Hatton Garden, Tiffany.” He rink we receiving ship, and of himself stop make. Der dam fools below dey make so much vuckings, dey der business neglect.'
The young man answered, left Herr Kunst in charge, and hurried to the bridge.
A very large yacht had slowed down nearly to a standstill, and was rolling in the swell barely two hundred yards from the New Decameron- obviously the cruiser scare was finished.
Herr Kunst, now on the bridge, lied feverishly through the megaphone.
The pinnace dropped from the davits of the New Decameron and, to cut it short-the book is supposed to be more naughty than nautical-in a few minutes a baker's dozen of oil-skinned pirates, headed by the young man, intimated to the captain of the diamond-smuggling boat that he had made a fatal mistake.
'I'm damned if there's a foreskin on board,' remarked one of the pirates, as the young man, revolver in hand, explained to the clamouring crew the exact purport of their mission.
In an hour, listening to the megaphone instructions of Herr Kunst, they had skinned £500,000 worth of illicit diamonds out of Mr. Solly Joelstein's yacht.
Herr Kunst behaved like a blend of inebriate, lunatic, and a person in a frenzy of joy.
'Ach, you, Solly,' he bellowed through the great tin mouthpiece, 'you steal mein mine in Johannesburg, you vuck mein wife, you seduce mein daughter. You tink a vool of me you make, ain't it? Bugger you, Solly, vuck you, Solly, vuck you,' and he emptied a revolver aimlessly across the black waters, and scurried down to meet the returning pinnace.
Hony met the young man at the top of the gangway.
'Here, little darling,' he said, handing her a small bag, 'you shan't want for diamonds your first season in London.'