They dropped on to the soft grass. The grim Scotsman kissed her very tenderly.
'Do you know, little darling,' he said, 'what we saw just now set me thinking. You haven't ever been screwed by one of these brown devils, have you?'
'Of course, often. You only forbade me to go with the other pirates.'
'Of course I meant all, but I suppose it's too late now,' he sighed.
'Well, I like that,' said the lovely child. 'You go through every pretty dark girl who comes near you, you even do it when I'm in the room; you are always saying how much you love me, but you hardly ever fuck me, and you expect me never to have a little fun on my own.'
'I don't love you in that way, darling.'
'Well, I like it: I'm a randy little bitch, and I Eke fucking as much as I like power, and I mean to have both. I'm far and away the prettiest girl on this island; every man, white or brown, is at my feet, and, by God, some of those beautiful brown boys are loving. You think of your business in the middle of it: you even dictated a letter to me when you were pretending to fuck that pretty little Noisoia, and you had the damned cheek to tell me there was a flood in the east mine when you were having me last night. It's bloody well mockery; you might as well be had by a piston rod. And I will have my brown lovers.'
John Tucker began to think: he must show his manhood. He pulled her over him as tenderly as he knew how, and swept his strong hand over her deliciously rounded breasts to the opening in her drawers. He knew all the time that he was thinking about the boat coming in, and he knew that Helena knew it, but his penis stiffened automatically.
She, always all readiness, guided his great prick, not without some difficulty, into her moist little cunt. She wriggled delightedly, closed her eyes, and bit him savagely on the cheek. Then she flung herself violently up and down on his vibrating cock uttering little cries of joy. Her fingers dug into his ribs, her naked legs clasped in a vice-like grip round his, her little tongue darted in and out of his mouth, and together they spent voluminously and savagely. For those few seconds all thoughts of mines and dividends had fled from John's brain; he saw only the lovely angel face pressed close to his, felt only the vicious clasp of her cunt muscles. It was the first time she had been so madly passionate with him. Perhaps, he thought, that little talk had done good. He made up his mind to keep her straight.
'Promise me, little angel,' he whispered as she slowly raised her cunt from off his cock, and looked down with those lovely turquoise eyes into his, 'promise me to be true.'
'If you can always do it like that, I'll think it over.'
They strolled on, hand in hand, the lovely, semi-naked girl, and the brutally strong-looking buccaneer, through the soft groves.
It all seemed to be lotus land. Couples, naked or semi-naked, wandered in lover's fashion. There was no sign of work save the distant incongruous clang of a hammer. They met a few white men, all with pretty dark girls. What a life of semi-somnolent ease!
The wireless station, coming suddenly into view, made an oddly out-of-place impression. John hastened his footsteps. He was thinking solely of business now.
A man swung round a wooded corner on a native pony and reined up short. Excitedly he told John Tucker of a mine flooding, and that worthy, with a hurried apology, left little Helena, swung himself on to the pony's back behind the rider, and disappeared.
Helena stood idly gazing out to sea. She felt discontented, and when she heard a soft 'Hara da see', seemingly from the centre of a bush of ferns, a thrill came to her heart.
A slim, graceful young islander pushed aside the foliage, and stepped lightly over to Helena.
She answered the salutation in the soft vernacular, and then both lapsed into English.
He was very handsome, in a delicate style, and was fully dressed in white ducks. His hair was jet black and crisp, and he swung a great panama hat in his hand. His tie boasted a scarf-pin which would have made a Piccadilly blood green with envy, and his red morocco belt was fastened by a clasp of twin golden snakes with emerald eyes, and tiny slips of ruby made the tongues which darted venomously at each other. In feet, he looked like a god of the woods got up for Henley. 'Shall we go to the little pavilion in the woods, my sweet one?'
'Not today, Samura, my own,' she answered. 'The ship will, I think, be in soon; just kiss me and wait another time.'
Their full red lips met in a loving embrace. Samura's arms twined round the girl's slim waist, his jewelled fingers toying in her scarlet sash, making vivid contrasts of colour. Her fingers toyed with his crisp curls. It was a pretty contrast; the golden-haired northern girl, and the handsome brown-skinned native.
'Let's go down to the cafe by the quay and wait for news,' suggested Helena.
They strolled down.
It was an ideal cafe. Set back from the shining white quay was a great verandah, some twenty feet deep and about sixty feet in length. It was dotted with little tables, set not too close together, and at one end were large and small tables, where meals were served at all hours of the day and night. Within was a large room, similar to any Parisian cafe, save that the decorations were, if anything, more pricelessly gorgeous than could be found in the cafes of any of the great cities of the world. A little of the famous Reisenheimer collection, for which there was no room in the young man's house, figured there. There were statuettes in plenty, and magnificently framed mirrors reflected a brilliant scene when the room was full of elegant diners.
Behind that, led on to by French windows, was a tropical garden, radiant with flowers. That ran back to the slope of a hill, up which there were winding paths. Above the great salon were dining-rooms, public and private.
The front terrace was very full when Helena and Samura, acknowledging greetings on either side, found a table. The elite of the populace of Fleur de la Chair were there.
It is now necessary to digress a little and explain the constitution of this delightful island.
To go back to the original cruise of the New Decameron. After they had swept the Atlantic and set all the world astounded at the daring of their exploits, and the fleets of eight nations at their heels, by the greatest good luck they came upon an island where no island should be. It was uncharted, and the only possible theory was that in the far past it had been brought to the surface by a volcanic eruption, and had always escaped the attention of map-makers.
There in simple idle bliss lived a placid, lotus-eating folk, singularly good-looking and utterly ignorant of the outer world. They knew of no other land but their own; they had rough boats, but never ventured far from shore. They knew nothing of their origin, which must have dated back to some castaways from a far distant island. It had never occurred to them to attempt to discover any other land, and when the young man and his pirates arrived they were worshipped frankly as gods.
The young man saw at once that this place was Heaven-sent.
It was quite self-supporting. All kinds of vegetables and fruit flourished in abundance, and the crops were plentiful. With the exception of oxen and cows, the edible animal kingdom was well represented.
The island's fertility was clearly the result of some long ago Swiss Family Robinson, who had not only themselves conscientiously obeyed the divine command, 'Be fruitful and multiply', but had distilled that doctrine into their animals.
Friendship between the marauders and the placid inhabitants was quickly established. There were some very able minds among the pirates, and out of the wooden village presently grew an idyllically beautiful little town. The natives took to work as a new pleasure in life, and were as delighted as children to see the beautiful palaces arise.
But it was with the advent of John Tucker that the place really began to hum.