One hand gently caressed Hony, the other he laid on the lad's stiff little prick; Hony's hand also stole to it, while she still continued to kiss Maudie, and the sensation of their two hands meeting and touching on it was exquisite to those two. One of Maudie's hands crept round and toyed with the girl's dainty little bottom and pink opening just above the young man's eyes.
The movements grew fast and furious, sighs escaping them all, and this time all four of them simultaneously paid their tribute to the deity of love and passion.
Hony scrambled off the young man, and lay down, exhausted and satisfied by his side. Maudie and Jim crept softly from the room.
The young man told Hony about his island, of his palace, of the natives, and of the perfect climate.
He told her also of the sports and amusements by which they whiled away their time, and kept themselves in good condition. He was lord and master there, his word was law, as much as on his ship. They had no socialists or suffragettes among his community.
Hony could not resist the temptation to ask him if he did not at times long for the Old Country, and regret that, now a pirate, he would never be able to return. He only smiled, and then he told her what even those nearest to him of his subordinates had not dreamt of-his plan to reinstate himself and all those under his command. He was positive of his success when the proper time came, and under the most solemn pledge of secrecy, he gave her a glimpse of what it was.
It bewildered her.
These confidences led to more endearments, and this time it was Hony's turn. They did not hurry-the delightful contact of their naked flesh, and Hony's rapture that the vacuum she had been sensible of was now filled and stretched to its utmost capacity, was too heavenly to be put an end to before Nature compelled it, but at last Nature triumphed-and the commingling of their bodies seemed to be but part of the commingling of their souls.
Hony, with a passionate and fervent kiss, dressed, as much as she could, and ran back to her own cabin, and to Carrie. To her she told the events of that morning, except, of course, where her promise was concerned.
That evening there was a festive dinner, and the wine flowed freely. It was the last but one before they were due to reach their Utopian Isle.
The hard work the pirates had the following day, under the keen eye of the young man, in giving the New Decameron the final touches to paint and metal work, effectually put a stop to the love passages that had been part of the daily routine.
That night they all retired early expecting to sight the promised land in the morning.
Herr Kunst, who had that evening indulged himself freely from the bottle, and who had spent the best part of the night looking at his diamonds and his money, and wondering what chance he would have of negotiating them, was sound asleep.
Suddenly he was aroused by a thunderous report in the distance. He sat up instantly, his face blanched and scared. A few seconds later there was a fearful report on the ship and he felt her shiver-he knew they had been struck He flopped out of bed, alternately cursing and praying, regardless of his costume, or rather want of it, as he had on but a very brief vest. He snatched up the lifebelt to which he had carefully attached his box of treasures, and then as an afterthought he seized a spare one for himself, and rushed up on deck, screaming, 'It vos der British Navy-damn der British Navy-sink der buggers, ain't it?'
The sight on deck which met his view was not quite what he expected.
Mr. Silverwood, Lady Tittle, Hony, Carrie, Billy Neale, the sisters and Hannibal McGregor were all quietly standing on deck grouped to one side of the ship, all dressed, and seemingly quite happy, and there-not a quarter of a mile off, over the port bow-lay a most charming-looking rural vista: with the exception of a faint glimpse of Cape Horn, the only land they had seen since New York.
McGregor turned and stared at Herr Kunst. 'Guid gracious, man, are ye thinkin' on swimmin' tae the shore, d'ye ken there's a canny few sharks roond aboot here?'
Herr Kunst was, for the first time on the voyage, really ashamed of himself, and without scarcely looking at the land, hastened back to his cabin to don a more appropriate garb.
The guns he had heard were the salute which had been replied to by the New Decameron.
The young man in immaculate uniform was on the bridge, and as the ship slowed down a long, dark object seemed to appear from the rocks themselves, and come tearing towards them.
Almost as suddenly as it appeared, it stopped by the lowered gangway of the ship: three men sprang off the torpedo-like craft.
When they reached the deck the pirates, who were lined up with almost naval precision, saluted. The young man stepped forward and shook hands cordially with the leader, who was dressed almost identically.
Lady Tittle, who had been staring at him as if her eyes would fall out of her head, regardless of all decorum, fairly gasped and murmured, 'The Earl of-' but a quick glance from the young man silenced her.
Even Lord Reggie, who just then came on deck, looked mildly surprised.
After the greeting the young man introduced him to the party as his vice-commander and captain of the island.
Lady Tittle was thinking over the dreadful case of the Earl of Wimbledon, who was caught red-handed in the most serious of moral breaches of the law, and, providentially, accidentally drowned before his arrest.
She was wondering how he could have come to life again.
Slowly the New Decameron steamed-as it appeared-straight for the rocks, but just as she was on them a narrow channel suddenly opened out to the left, and the New Decameron swung round into it.
They traversed a narrow cut right through the very cliffs on the island, sixty yards across, when suddenly they emerged on to a magnificent inland lake.
On it there lay several strange-looking craft at anchor, and along one shore a miniature Venice of dazzling white buildings struck the eye.
Herr Kunst came hurriedly on deck. Over his arm was his lifebelt-attached to it, the precious box of treasures.
Going up to the young man, he said, 'Before I on the shore go, I vant my cheque.'
The young man called him aside, and gave him the cheque, already made out-on a San Francisco bank-open, of course. 'I dare say our local bank will cash it,' he said, 'and you will have plenty of opportunities of spending your money on the beauties you are going to meet.
'There is also, I may tell you, our casino and the tables where you can speculate to your heart's content.'
'Mein Gott!' screamed Herr Kunst, 'as if I vould risk mein hardt earnt, mein peautiful monish, on ze gamble. Nein! nein! you vas all pirates!'
The young man turned from him with a contemptuous smile.
A sudden splash. The grating of chains. The anchors ran out, and the voyage of the New Decameron was over.
Our friends ceased to remain 'afloat'. They were conveyed ashore on one of the strange, oil fuel, turbine boats, and the quarters provided were such that not even Lord Reggie or Mr. Silverwood, millionaire, could find fault with them.
If this little history of our party of travellers meets with the approval of the reader, the author hopes someday further to narrate their experiences, both humorous and lascivious, on the 'Uncharted Island'. And how the young man won his way back for himself, and them all, to the freedom of the British Empire, and the approval of Society-and what society fate befell little Hony. But readers, for the present,
Au revoir.