The Cabin Boy - Part 4/4
By: DiAnn

"Get your hands off me, you scoundrel!"

Red Willie rolled his eyes heavenward.  He had been attempting
for the last quarter hour to get the sodden Samantha into the
tiny
dinghy and safely ashore.  "Will you just take my hand so I can
pull you out of the blasted water.  You're going to drown out
there,
you little idiot!"

"Idiot, am I!"  Samantha shook her fist at the big, red-headed
seaman, as her heavy, wet skirts tried to pull her under yet
again.
"You'll not lay a hand on me, you . . .you bastard!"

"Tsk-tsk-tsk, such language."  Red Willie smiled widely as a
pretty
blush lit Samantha's wet cheeks.  Her hair spread out around her
like a soft, dark cloud, her sparkling hazel eyes shooting
sparks of
pure rage at him.

Deciding that the world could ill afford to lose such an
enchanting
creature, the seaman reached down with one massive arm and
hauled the struggling, drenched woman up and into his lap.

"Ah-h-h-h!  How dare you.  Unhand me this instant!"

"You'll be lucky if I don't apply that hand to your backside."

Samantha gasped in outrage.  "You lay one hand on me, you
bastard, and I'll . . .I'll . . ."

"I wouldn't dare," Willie chuckled as he settled Samantha on the
seat across from his own.  "Now, just calm down and I'll row us
ashore."

Samantha huffed irately, lunging to her feet, then screamed as
the
little dinghy titled dangerously.  She sat back down, both hands
gripping the side of the boat with whitened knuckles.  She
seethed
as Red Willie laughed at her again. "You're a little spitfire,
Samantha."

"You may call me Miss Mulder, you bas . . .scoundrel!"

Willie chuckled yet again as he watched Samantha try to shake
some of the water out of her long locks without having to let
go of
the edge of the boat.  "You're very beautiful, Miss Mulder."

"And you're very improper, sir."  Samantha sniffed at his
grinning
face, turning to watch the quickly approaching shore.  She noted
the three people standing there watching them.  She hoped they
were not more dastardly pirates, she'd had quite enough of their
ilk, thank you very much.

Willie effortlessly pulled the dinghy ashore, scooping Samantha
up
in his arms and carrying her through the last few feet of water.

"Put me down!"

Willie bounced her a couple of times in his muscular arms.  "Put
you down?  Now?  Are you sure, Miss Mulder?"

Sam yelped, throwing her arms around the hated pirate's neck.
Realizing what she had done, she released him like he was made
of fire, only to be bounced again and repeating her frantic
clutch at
the man's neck.

"Stop that!  If you're any kind of gentleman at all, sir,
you'll put
me down on shore and stop these silly games."

"Hardly a silly game, sweetheart.  Someday you'll cling to me and
love every minute of it."

"Never!"  Samantha huffed as her feet finally settled on the
sandy
beach.  She breathed a sigh of relief.  Dry land at last.  She
looked
around to see her erstwhile rescuer holding both hands in the
air,
his eyes on the others who had been waiting on shore.  She turned
to the group, apprehension in her pretty hazel eyes.

"No need to be afraid, my dear."  Mother Maggie smiled at the
trembling woman.  "Everything will be fine now.  You're among
friends here."

"Are you the Sea Urchin's little sister?"  Clyde asked, never
lowering the sword he had trained on the red-headed pirate.

Samantha's eyes widened further, her lashes coming down to
sweep her cheeks in a couple of slow, confused blinks.  "What?"

Napoleon sighed as he rolled his eyes heavenward,  "What he
means is, are you Samantha Mulder?"

"Oh, why yes I am.  And you would be?"  Samantha batted her
long lashes as she eyed the good looking younger man, ignoring
the disgusted snort that came from Red Willie.

Napoleon made the introductions, causing tears to form in Sam's
hazel eyes when he told her that her brother lived on the
island and
would be returning soon.  Mother Maggie put a soothing arm
around the young woman.  "Come now, my sweet, let me take you
up to Captain Skinner's house.  You can rest there."

Clyde turned to the big pirate who still stood with his hands
in the
air.  Clyde noticed that the redhead's attention was still
completely
on the weeping Samantha.  "You can spend your time in the stocks
until the captain comes back."

"I want to join up with you."  Willie reluctantly took his eyes
away
from Samantha to spare one quick glance for Clyde.  "Surely
Captain Skinner can use another experienced crewman."

"Only one he can trust."  MistaEx glared at the intruder.

"He can trust me."  Red Willie assured, his eyes moving back to
Samantha.  Clyde followed the younger man's gaze to where the
dark haired young woman was being led away by the still clucking
Mother Maggie.

"Ah, so that's the way of it, is it?"

"Yes, that's the way of it all right."  Willie tore his eyes
away from
Samantha's back.  "Look, I can prove . . .Oh wait, we forgot
about
Mary Scully."

Mother Maggie's head snapped around as she really looked at the
big pirate for the first time.  "What did you say, young man?"

"Your sister, ma'am, Mary Scully.  She's still on board the
Severed Heart."

"I don't think so!"  MistaEx raised one big, blunt finger
pointing
out to sea.

A small dinghy was just visible as it slowly and falteringly made
it's way toward shore.  The small flame-haired person rowing,
quite obviously not used to such work, but doing an admirable job
none the less.

Mother Maggie raised a hand to her eyes, squinting in the bright
sun reflected off the sparkling water.  "Oh my Dear Heavenly
Father, it <is> my sweet Mary.  Praise the Lord!"

Clyde and MistaEx rowed the other dinghy out to Mary's position,
where the native king skillfully shifted himself in Mary's boat
and
swiftly rowed her to shore.

"Oh Mary!  My dear, dear Mary."  Mother Maggie threw herself
into her sister's arms, both of them awash in joyful tears.

Willie watched as the Severed Heart weighed anchor.  So much for
three years in the service of Gentleman John.  The man appeared
to care little that his first mate was now being held at saber
point
on the shore.  Obviously there would be no rescue attempt.  But
that was just fine by Willie.  He'd had enough of Mad Gentleman
John.  Red Willie had a woman's heart to win, he didn't have time
for pirating right now.

When the group reached the main house, Samantha stood in awe
before the gleaming white structure.  "Fox lives here?"

"Yes, my lady."  Napoleon placed a gentle kiss on her right hand,
earning a dangerous glare from Red Willie.  "Your brother is most
cherished by Captain Skinner.  He's quite happy here."

"Fox and Captain Skinner?"  Samantha asked while a small frown
formed between her brows.  "I've never known Fox to be attracted
to men in that way.  He wasn't forced, was he?"

"Not at all, Miss Samantha," Napoleon assured her.  "Our captain
can be most persuasive when the need arises.  While your brother
may well feel he was swept off his feet, finding himself in the
captain's bed before he even realized what had happened, <you>
may rest assured that he is most sincerely loved."

Samantha smiled widely.  "So my brother has finally found
someone to protect and care for him?  It's always been quite the
opposite I'm afraid."

"Yes," Napoleon stated emphatically while the other island
inhabitants nodded their head in agreement.  "Fox is everything
in
the world to our handsome captain.  You will see for yourself
soon
enough."

As they neared the steps of the main house, Clyde pushed his
saber
into Red Willie's back, nudging him toward the back of the house.

"Just a moment, sir."  Mary Scully, placed a gentle hand on
Clyde's arm causing the man's breath to catch in his throat. 
Mary
turned to her still beaming sister.  "Maggie dear, I hadn't said
anything until now but I do believe this young man to be Kate's
son."

"What?"  Mary turned to looked at the tall, red-haired man. 
"Why,
I think you could be right, sister.  What is your name, young
man?"

"Re . . .Red Willie, ma'am."  The pirate managed to stammer out
after a long, awkward silence.

"No, boy, your real name."

Willie flushed angrily, "I don't know, and it's not important!"

"And your Mother's name?"

"If you must know, my fine lady, they called her Black Irish,
that's
all I know."  Willie glared at the woman defensively, not wanting
to talk about his mother to these pious women.  Black Irish might
not be good enough for the likes of them, but Willie had loved
her
with all his heart.  As he glared at the two blue-eyed women, a
sense of familiarity came over him.  Not even thinking before he
did it, Willie reached under the neck of his shirt and pulled
out a
small gold chain.  "She gave this to me before she was taken
away.
It's all I have left of her."

Willie was surprised as both Maggie and Mary burst into fresh
tears, gathering him into their arms.  Willie struggled for
only a
moment before allowing himself the unfamiliar luxury of being
hugged.

Napoleon made a shooing gesture to the group.  "Let's take this
inside out of the noonday sun.  I think there's a story here,
and it
would best be told over cool glasses of lemonade."

The small group of seven made their way into the peaceful,
shadowy depths of the house, MistaEx having already slipped back
into the jungle that was his home.

As they sat on the beautiful white couches, sipping icy glasses
of
lemonade, Napoleon turned to Maggie and Mary.  The two sisters
were sitting so close together that their shoulders and legs were
touching, as if they were each fearful that the other might
vanish if
constant vigil were not maintained.  They looked so much alike it
was almost startling, except for their hair.  One as dark as
midnight, the other a flaming a bright, shining red.

"Mother Maggie, who is Kate?" Napoleon implored, his natural
curiosity getting the best of him.

Mother Maggie shook her head somberly.  "It's a long and sad tale
but one that must be told now that our dear William has been
returned to us."

She smiled at Mary, who nodded her head in encouragement.
Maggie took a deep breath, sparing one quick smile for the
bewildered Red Willie who sat uncomfortably on the luxurious
white couch, being much more accustomed to bulkheads or dirty
pubs.

"Our father, William Scully, was the commander of the king's
navy.  My family lived at the palace all of our lives.  My
sisters
and I knew no other home.  Nor had my mother, who had also
been raised at the palace.  She was a lady in waiting and very
loyal
to the queen. My mother had made a promise to the queen that
upon the birth of her daughter, she would name her Margaret after
her majesty.  It was a promise she kept."

"Oh my yes," Mary laughed softly.  "That she did."

Maggie gave her sister another knowing smile.  "I'm afraid she
took her promise a little too seriously.  When I was born, I was
christened Margaret Rose.  But then when my mother had two
more children, both girls, she named them Margaret as well,
Margaret Mary and Margaret Katherine.  It was all quite confusing
for a time."

"That is was," Mary chuckled.  "But then we began using
nicknames for each other and that served us all quite well. We
became Maggie, Mary and Kate."

Mother Maggie nodded sadly at her sister.  "We were very happy
at the palace until that terrible Edward Jerse came into our
lives.
He was an officer who served under our father.  He was a
handsome man but . . .strange somehow."

"Maggie," Mary chided.  "Tell it truthfully.  The man was mad!"

"Yes, I suppose he was.  He heard voices telling him to do
terrible
things to women.  It was all quite alarming.  But poor Kate was
wild for him.  He had half the women at the palace chasing him
but we didn't find that out until it was far too late.  Kate
got with
child.  Edward left her, of course, but only after he tried to
kill her.
She barely escaped with her life."

Mary wiped a tear from her eye, "We tried to hide Kate's
condition for as long as possible, but the royal priests found
out
about it and threw poor Kate from the palace.  My mother was so
distraught.  She begged the queen for assistance but through she
had been the most loyal of subjects, the queen refused her
petition."

"Some said the queen was intolerant because the king himself was
unfaithful to his marriage vows."

"Mary, that was idle gossip!  It isn't Godly to spread such
rumors."

"Humph!"

Maggie spared a reproachful look for her sister before
continuing.
"At any rate, my mother took to her bed, never to rise again. 
She
died of a broken heart before our dear father could return from
the
sea."

"We cried for weeks," Mary added.  "When our father finally got
into port, he found his family in tatters.  Our mother was long
dead, Kate had vanished into the streets of London, and Mary
and I
had sought out a convent to hide from such a cruel world."

"Yes, now we know we acted too hastily.  Perhaps if we had
stayed at the palace, we could have found Kate.  But it was so
difficult for us after Kate left and our mother died.  Where we
had
once been valued subjects, our family was now held in scorn.
Mary and I took the cowards' way out."

"There's no need for regrets, Maggie dear, we were young and at a
loss, we did the best we could.  After leaving the convent,
Maggie
went on to become a missionary but I wanted to help the children
that I had seen living on the streets of London.  I opened an
orphanage.  Those who could afford, paid for their upkeep.  Those
who could not had to work for their room and board.  It was the
best I could do and certainly better than sleeping in dangerous,
filthy alleyways."

They all turned as Samantha gasped, "What do you mean?  I never
worked for my meals and I know my parents left no money.  They
were executed for crimes against the crown, everything they
owned was taken. How were you paid for my room and meals?"

Mary smiled sweetly at the younger woman, "Samantha dear, you
already know the answer to that question, now don't you?"

"Fox."  Samantha breathed, tears coming into her eyes.  "But how
did he get the money?  And where did he stay?  I was always so
angry at him for leaving me.  I wanted him to stay at the
orphanage
with me."

"He worked in the woolen house."

Everyone turned in shock as Red Willie said the first words he'd
uttered since they had left the beach.  He looked up at them
through pale red lashes.

"Fox lived on the street with me.  I knew him for years, and,"
Willie looked down sheepishly at his leather boots.  "And I beat
him up on a regular basis.  I thought he was weak.  Always going
around trying to help people.  He wouldn't even pick a pocket,
for
heaven's sake.  It made the rest of us look bad."

"You hit my brother?"  Samantha asked through gritted teeth, eyes
narrowing dangerously.

Willie swallowed hard.  "Uh . . . only a few times.  There was
this
shop keeper who protected him and then that old drunk was always
around, too.  I didn't hit him very much.  Honest, Samantha."

Samantha started to launch herself off the couch, death in her
eye,
when she was abruptly pulled back by Mother Maggie.  "Not now,
dear.  You may kill him after Fox returns but not until."

"Why?"  Samantha seethed, still glaring at Red Willie.

"Because we're almost positive that this is the long lost son
of my
dear sister, Kate.  Not only does he resemble Edward Jeris in
stature but he has our father's red hair.  It was a most unusual
shade of red.  And if that weren't enough, he has Kate's cross
necklace.  Our mother had one especially made for each of us.  I
would know it anywhere.  So you can't kill him until Mary and I
have an opportunity to get to know him better."

"Oh all right."  Samantha pouted as she flounced back down into
the soft sofa.  "I'll wait, but only until Fox get's back, then
I'll kill
him."

William Scully swallowed hard, still staring at the beautiful but
furious woman.  He was certain she meant every word.  And unless
Fox Mulder was a very forgiving man, he would no doubt help her
carry out her threat.  The ante had just been upped.  Win
Samantha's heart before her brother returned or spend the rest of
his life watching his back.

* * *
"We're approaching port, Captain Skinner.  How far out do you
want us to anchor?"

"I don't want the town's people to know we're here this time, Mr.
Byers.  Keep us well out of sight.  Send out a scouting party to
look for a hidden cove or we'll have to stay away from shore and
enter by dinghy under cover of darkness."

"Yes, sir."  The first mate turned on his heel, eager to send
the first
scouting party ashore.

Skinner glanced over at his cabin boy as the young man leaned far
over the rail, trying to catch a glimpse of the shoreline.  He
turned
to his captain, wide, hazel eyes sparkling with excitement.

"What's our plan, captain?"

"We go ashore.  We kidnap Blevins and then we head back out to
sea.  I plan to take the son-of-a-bitch back to the island
where I can
interrogate him at my leisure."  Captain Skinner cracked his
knuckles loudly, a demonic smile gracing his handsome face.

Mulder looked down at the rope that encircled his waist, tied
securely at the small of his back, the other end tied to the
captain's
thick black belt.

"Are you going to untie this rope before going ashore?"

"Absolutely."

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank goodness, I could just
picture you leading me around town like a puppy on a leash."

"Hum, that picture isn't all that unappealing, Fox.  A man
could do
much worst in his choice of a pretty little pet."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Don't worry, pet, you aren't going to be lead around town on the
end of my rope.  In fact, you aren't going to town. You're
staying
in my cabin until I return with my prize."

"What?  But I deserve . . ."

"What you deserve, my beauty, is a trip over my knees, which
you're very well going to get before bed tonight.  I can't
believe
you talked Frohike into letting you sit up in that damned crow's
nest all night.  I almost had heart failure when I woke up and
you
weren't in bed with me." Skinner tugged on the length of rope.
"Well, it won't be happening again.  From now on, you aren't
leaving my side."

"I couldn't sleep," Mulder pouted, little knowing how much the
captain enjoyed the sight of that protruding lower lip.

"From now on, if you can't sleep, you will inform me and I will
provide an activity that will sufficiently wear you out until you
won't want to do anything else but sleep."

"Perhaps I would be more inclined to listen to your advice if you
were to demonstrate that technique tonight," Mulder looked up
hopefully through thick, dark lashes.

"You'd be <inclined> to listen would you?"  Skinner chuckled as
he leaned forward to kiss his cabin boy's nose.  "I'd be most
happy
to accommodate you, my beauty."  He smiled again at Fox's
relieved look.  "After your bottom has been properly warmed that
is.  There's nothing like taking a red, hot bottom between cool,
clean sheets.  I can't wait."

"Me either," Mulder sulked, refusing to look at his captain,
irritated when the man just laughed at him again. "You really
shouldn't spank me, you know.  I am a grown man of twenty-three
years and . . ."

"Yes, so you've told me, numerous times, and if you were any
cuter, I'd never let you out of my cabin or my bed."

"Cute!  I <am not> cute!"

"Whatever you say, brat."  Mulder could only glare as he received
another kiss to his nose from his chuckling captain.

The afternoon drug on with very little to alleviate Fox's
boredom.
Being tied to his captain, literally, meant that he had to
stand by
while the man performed all the mundane duties associated with
his station.

Fox was antsy.  He wanted to go ashore.  He wanted to find
Samantha.  He wanted to avoid the spanking that awaited him
tonight.

A little after three, Skinner looked around to see the end of the
rope lying on the deck and Fox no where to be found.

"Ah-h-h-h-h!  I'm going to kill him!"

Reggie shook his head as he walked over to the captain.

"You might want to do that again, just a bit louder this time,
Walter, I'm not sure everyone on shore heard you.  We are
supposed to be here unbeknownst you know."

"He's gone!  I turn around not five minutes and the little shit
unties
the rope and is gone.  Where the hell does he think he can hide?
The ship isn't that big for Christ's sake.  This time, I'm really
going to kill him.  I swear it!"

"Of course you are, Walter.  You're going to look right into
those
big, hazel eyes and slit that boy's throat from ear to ear."

Skimmer grimaced at the image, visibly paling before Reggie's
amused eyes.

"That's what I thought, tough guy.  Just stay here, I'll go
find your
brat for you."

Less than twenty minutes later, Reggie walked up holding a
hissing, spitting Mulder in one hand.  "Does this angry little
hellion belong to you, Captain?"

Skinner grabbed Mulder away from the chuckling older man.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?  I told you to stay
by my
side.  I can't believe you had the nerve to untie that rope right
under my nose.  Don't you have an ounce of self preservation in
you, boy?"

"You were going to punish me anyway."  Mulder shot back, eyes
full of defiance.  "How much worse could it get?"

Skinner abruptly let go of Mulder's arms to latch onto his ear.

"Ouch!  Let go!  You're hurting me!"

"Not yet, brat, but you <will> be hurting very soon."  Skinner
sat
down on the bulk head dragging a horrorstruck cabin boy face
down over his lap.

"No!  Not here!"

"You asked how much worse it could get, now you know.  You're
right, you were going to get a spanking, brat.  But down in my
cabin where it was all nice and private and you would've been
cuddled afterward.  Now it's going to happen right here on deck
where everyone can enjoy the show.  That's how much worse it
can get, brat."

From his upended position, Fox could see several pairs of leather
boots gathered around but he didn't dare raise he head enough to
see who was going to witness his humiliation.  He heard the heavy
pounding of leather on wood as word spread, and still more crew
members hurried up form below decks.

"Please, sir."  He begged, feeling the captain's hands at his
waist,
panicking as he realized he had one last chance before his pants
lay humiliatingly around his knees.

"Sorry Fox, I want to make sure the next time I give you an
order,
you won't even think about disobeying."

Mulder put both hands over his face and groaned miserably as he
felt his pants lowered, the soft ocean breeze caressing his
vulnerable, exposed butt.  "Couldn't we talk about this?"

The captain lay one big hand on the bared bottom that lay so
temptingly begging for his attention.  "Do you really want to lay
here bare-assed in the noon day sun and have a discussion with
me, Fox?"

"N . . .no."

"I thought not."

Once his pants were residing at his knees, the captain wasted no
time, bringing his hand down with a loud crack on Mulder's naked
backside.

"When I tell you," Smack!  Smack!  Smack! "To do something,"
Smack!  Smack! "I expect you to do it!"  Smack!  Smack!  Smack!
"And without,"  Smack!  Smack!  "Argument," Smack!  Smack!
"Endless discussion," Smack!  Smack!  Smack! "Or outright
defiance!" Smack!  Smack!  Smack!  "You got that, brat?"

"YES SIR!  OUCH-H-H-H!"

"Somehow I very much doubt that,"  Smack!  Smack!  Smack!
Smack!  Smack!  Smack!  "Get up!"

Mulder scrambled from his unfortunate position, grabbing for his
lowered pants, still hoping to salvage a smidgeon of his
dignity.  It
was not to be.

"Just leave those where they are, and get your nose against the
mast."

"WHAT!  You can't mean . . ."

"You heard me!  You'll be spending the rest of the day on deck
where I, and everyone else, can keep an eye on you.  Now move!"

"I want to pull up my pants!"  Mulder stomped his foot, coming
very close to falling on his nose as the afore mentioned wayward
pants wrapped around his ankles.

Skinner advanced on his cabin boy, smiling smugly as Mulder had
the good sense to take a few steps back.  "I think what you
<want>
is a good dose of my strap, brat.  You have ten seconds to
climb up
on that bulkhead and put your nose on the mast or you'll find
yourself over a barrel.  Your choice!"

Mulder wasted all of two seconds of his time glaring at his stern
captain before clamoring up on the low wooden platform and
placing the tip of his nose against the main mast.  He flushed
crimson as he thought about the spectacle he must be making with
his bare, red bottom on full, sun-lit display for the enjoyment
of
captain and crew alike.

He could hear the other men moving around him, talking among
themselves as they went about his regular work.  No one spoke to
him directly, but he would occasionally hear laughter that he had
no doubt was related to him and his unfortunate predicament.  He
spent most of the afternoon with a bright red blush gracing both
sets of his cheeks.

Finally, the shore came into view.  A tiny sliver of land far
off on
the horizon.  Fox didn't dare turn around to look.  He heard the
captain order the ship to weigh anchor as the pirates settled
down
to wait for darkness.

Mulder, for his part, had lost all interest in arguing his
right to go
ashore with the rest of the crew.

* * *
Mulder sat straight up in bed, eyes blinking owlishly as the
light of
a lantern filled the darkness of the captain's cabin.

"Fox, you have to come right away!  The captain's been captured!
They're going to hang him!"

Mulder jumped out of bed and was half way into his clothes before
he realized that the bearer of the lantern, and the news, was
none
other than Tom Colton.  He threw his shirt to the floor, flinging
himself back down on the bed.

"I'm not falling for that one again, Colton.  Just get out of
here."

"What?  You can't be serious!  Captain Skinner is in the hands of
any angry mob of townspeople, and you're going to just lay here
and let them string him up.  Are you crazy?"

Mulder licked his lips, eyeing the other man skeptically.  "Why
are
you here?  How did you find out the captain had been captured?"

"I was left on board just like you were, cause of . . .well
because I
still can't sit down.  One of my mates came back to tell me what
had happened.  He knows how I feel about the captain."

"And just how <do> you feel about the captain, Colton?"

Tom ran an exasperated hand over his face.  "We don't have time
for your jealous little tantrums right now, Fox.  We have to go
save
the captain and the rest of the crew.  Now get your ass moving!"

Mulder was beginning to become a little concerned.  Colton
looked for all the world like he was serious.  What if the
captain
really was in trouble and his cabin boy was here, wasting time
arguing with Tom Colton.  "All right, let's go."

The two made their way onto the deserted deck.  Mulder grabbed
Tom's arm.  "I thought the captain left a skeleton crew here to
man the ship.  Where is everybody?"

"They've already gone ashore to rescue the captain.  Now stop
asking so many damned questions and let's get going.  They need
the help of every man they can get."

As Mulder crawled into the dinghy, the hilt of a knife came out
of
the night landing sharply on his right temple.  The last
thought he
had before the darkness overcame him was, <The captain's really
going to kill me this time.>

* * *
Fox woke up to an all too familiar pounding in his head.

He was lying on his stomach across the saddle of a horse, each
step
of the hooves sending agonizing streaks of pain through his whole
body.  He fought back a groan.  He could smell the animal-sweat
of the horse and the dust of the road they traveled.  He pried
open
one eye, it was still dark but he could make out trees along
the side
of the road.  Not in town then.  A man's heavy leather boot was
placed firmly in the stirrup beside Mulder's head, and worst of
all,
he could feel a big hand resting intimately on his upturned
bottom.
At least he still had the protection of his heavy pants.

He tried to keep very quiet but the constant pounding of his head
grew unbearable.  He raised his bound hands to his forehead,
allowing an agonized groan to escape his lips to be followed by a
yelp as the hand on his bottom delivered a sharp slap.

"Lay still, boy.  We'll be there soon enough.  Once we arrive,
you'll long for the comfort of this ride."

What seemed like hours, and several stinging slaps to his
backside
later, the horse was finally pulled to a halt.  The man in the
saddle
dismounted, groaning as he stretched stiff muscles which were
protesting such a long, hard ride.

Mulder longed to be taken down from the horse.  His stomach
hurt, his back hurt and worst of all his head ached so badly his
vision was blurred.

"That him, Drake?"

"Yeah, Blevins was right, he's a pretty thing.  Wish I was the
one
who got to keep him for a spell."

"I'm being paid well to keep him here until Skinner leaves town,
and Mr. Blevins can put his property back in the counting house
where it belongs.  He don't want nobody touching the boy until
then.  So what he looks like don't mean a whole lot to me, I'm
more interested in his strong back.  I plan to work him hard
while I
got him."

The man pulled Mulder down from the saddle, supporting his
weight as the cabin boy's knees buckled under him.  Mulder
struggled as Drake's hands wandered intimately over his body.
"You'd just best be sure he's still breathin' when Blevins
shows up
to claim him."

"I'll be the one to worry about that.  You just take him
inside, the
missus will have him whipped into shape in no time.  Mean
woman, that one."

Mulder felt himself being dragged inside what looked to be an
country way station of some sort.  As he was manhandled inside
and shoved down into a hard, wooden chair, Mulder took the
opportunity to get a good look at his captors.  The man called
Drake, who had brought him here, was big and rough looking but
the man who obviously owned this establishment was bigger and
looked even meaner.  Then the woman appeared.

She was short and stout, with fraying gray hair and an expression
that could only be described as malicious.  "So this is the
brat I've
got to be bothering myself with, is it?"

She grabbed Mulder's chin with hard, calloused hands.  "Let me
tell you, pretty boy, I won't be takin' no grief from the likes
of
you.  You'll work here and you'll work hard or you'll be feeling
my switch across your pretty backside, you will."  She let go
of his
chin with a teeth-rattling shake.  "Now, you'd best be gettin'
those
fine clothes off.  You'll not be puttin' on airs in front of my
good
customers."

Mulder looked down at his heavy breeches, finely woven linen
shirt and sturdy leather boots.  Truthfully, other than the
warmth it
could provide, the cabin boy had never given much thought to the
clothing he wore.

He'd been taken abroad the Chauve Terreur as naked as the day he
was born, the few rags he'd possessed left behind in the counting
house.  Fox had trusted the captain to dress him in whatever
manner he wished without thought or comment.  But now, he
realized he had inadvertently allowed himself to become
accustomed to the comfortable, well-made clothing the captain
had provided in such abundance.  He would miss them.  He sighed
as he began to unbutton the shirt.  All too soon he stood naked
and
shivering before the three strangers.

Mrs. Mitchell's eyes glowed with greed,  "There'd be many a fine
gentleman'd pay us a pretty penny to take this one above stairs
for
an hour or two."

"And I wouldn't mind a bit being the first in line," Drake
leered at
the embarrassed young man.

"Have you lost your mind, Millie?"  Austin Mitchell threw a
threadbare pair of pants and a ragged shirt at Mulder.  "Blevins
would kill us when he found out."

"Humph!"  Mrs. Mitchell glared at Mulder as if the full blame lie
with him, "All I'm sayin' is that it ain't right wasting such a
prime
piece of property.  Everybody knows indentured servants expect to
be used for their better's profit and pleasure."

"Not this time, Millie.  I ain't backin' down to you.  The boy
works but not on his back above stairs.  That's final!"

"Still ain't right," Millie Mitchell huffed indignantly. 
"Austin, get
the shackles on him and then put him to work scrubbin' those pots
in the kitchen.  Everybody pulls their own weight here or I'll
know
the reason why!"

As he turned to leave, Drake patted Mulder's cheek, "I don't envy
you, sweetheart, that woman is after your lovely ass and I don't
mean in a pleasurable way either."  The man glanced down to
where Austin was busy attaching heavy iron shackles to Mulder's
ankles.  He laughed evilly before turning to walk out of the
door,
leaving Mulder alone with his two new captors.

* * *
"What do you mean by <gone>?"

Langly swallowed hard at the deadly look in his captain's eyes.
"We went to get Fox for you, sir, to bring him ashore just like
you
said . . ."

"Why the hell did you want Fox to come ashore for anyway,"
Reggie asked, his eyes narrowed on his former cabin boy.

"If you must know, Captain Purdue, I missed him.  I thought Fox
would enjoy a brief visit to the town."

"Of all the addle-brained, dull-witted . . ."

Skinner ignored Reggie's tirade as he turned back to Langly.  "Go
on, sailor.  Quickly now."

Langly eyed the two ominous pirate captains, taking a deep,
calming breath as he dredged up enough nerve to continue his
story.   "So when we got back to the ship the crew had been
locked
in the hole.  A dinghy was missing, and so were Fox and Tom
Colton.

"I should have killed Colton while I had him over that barrel. 
If
he's hurts one hair on Fox's head, I'll . . ."

"Now isn't the time for thoughts of revenge, Walter.  There'll 
be
plenty of time for that later."  Reggie signaled for the crew to
move closer.  "We have to go back ashore, men.  Tom Colton, it
would seem, has kidnaped Fox.  We have to find them and
quickly."

"Aye, aye, sir!"  The men shouted as they headed for the dinghies
that would take them back to shore.

* * *
Mulder swiped at his sweat covered brow as he finished up
scrubbing the last of the iron pots.  Mrs. Mitchell wasn't much
of a
cook, usually burning the food beyond recognition, and creating
pots so mucked it took hours to get them clean again.

"You still piddling around with those pots, pretty boy?"

"No, ma'am.  All finished."

"Bout time too.  You won't be gettin' no dinner.  Ain't none of
my
fine food left tonight.  Scrub this floor, then you can find
you bed
like the lazy pup you are.  And this floor best be shining by
morning or it'll be another trip to the woodshed for you."

"Yes, ma'am."  Mulder sighed as he went to the corner to find the
big scrub brush that we would be using for the next few hours. 
His
stomach rumbled loudly.  This was the third day without food.  He
was sure he would pay dearly, should his body betray him by
fainting from hunger.

Mulder fell wearily to his knees, dipping the brush into the
bucket
of soapy water.  He never got this floor clean enough to please
the
mistress of the inn.  It had too many layers of grime on it
before he
had come to be the Mitchell's personal slave.  But as hard as his
life was here at the inn, he shivered at the thought of Blevins
coming to take him back to that dismal counting house.  He wasn't
sure he could survive that again.  Not now that he had known
freedom and true happiness with the captain.

He sighed heavily as he began to rub the pig bristle brush over
the
stone floor.  He missed the captain.  Of course, he had always
known that his life abroad the Chauve Terreur would never last.
He was never meant to have so much safety, and protection
and . .  .food.  Don't forget the food.  He missed the food only
slightly less than his beloved captain.  Fox decided he'd been
the
worst kind of fool to become so accustomed to that life.  This
was
as much as he should expect.  Back-breaking work from dawn to
dusk and beyond, an empty belly, and then a thin, tattered
blanket
on a cold, stone floor for a couple of hours of restless sleep.
This
was a life he knew and understood.  This was a life he didn't
have
to worry about anyone taking away from him.  Yes, he decided, it
was much better this way.

Mulder awakened slowly to the sound of voices.

"Who do you suppose he is?"

"Just some serving boy, my lady.  No one with whom you need
concern yourself."

"That's right, my lady."

Mulder recognized the voice of Mrs. Marshall, hoarse with
interrupted sleep.  "He's just my indentured servant, pay him no
mind.  I own this fine inn, how may I be of service to you good
folks."

A man with a thick English accent spoke, "Sir Thomas Higgins of
Westchester and Lady Diana Fowley, madame.  We've been
traveling all this long night, and wish a good meal and a warm
bed
before we continue our journey."

"Then you've come to the right place."  Mulder felt the toe of
the
mistress's boot connect painfully with his right hip.  "Up boy,
your
betters need some food and drink."

Mulder stumbled from his cold bed.  It was still dark outside,
the
inn now being lit by only a lantern carried by a man dressed in a
black suit.  A lady stood beside him, studying Fox carefully.

"Did she say your name is Fox?"

"Yes, ma'am."  Mulder tried to work his way around the woman,
feeling ashamed of his dirty, ragged clothing.  He'd felt this
same
way when the carriages with the grand ladies had passed him on
the streets of London.  He wasn't fit to be around such beautiful
people.

The lady turned to her companion.  "Thomas, do you think . . ."

"No, Lady Diana, I do not.  I'm sure <Fox> is a common enough
name here in the colonies.  Please let us leave the boy to his
work
and sit down to await our meal."

"He really is quite handsome and could be . . ."

"I assure you, he is not the same boy.  I beg you, Lady Diana, do
not unduly upset your uncle with such nonsense.  The Duke of
Fowley does not need to be making unnecessary trips to the
colonies to look upon a mere serving boy, no matter how pretty of
face and form."

Fox came back with two bowls of rabbit stew and some thick
slices of buttered bread.  He set the food down in front of the
new
arrivals, keeping his eyes averted from the lady's disturbing and
intense scrutiny.

He looked over at the scowling man.  That expression was even
more distressing than the lady's obvious curiosity.  "Will
there be
anything else, sir."

"Most certainly not.  Be gone with you, boy, and you might
consider a good bath sometime in the near future."  Higgins waved
a dismissive hand in Fox's direction.

"Yes, sir."  Mulder blushed bright red as he hurried away. 
Just as
he turned to leave, Lady Diana overturned the mug of wine setting
in front of her, soaking her dress.

"Oh my lady, let me help you."  Fox frantically wiped at the
table
with the tail of his shirt.

The woman glared up at him.  "Are you always this clumsy, boy?"

"Bu . . .but, ma'am . . .I didn't . . ."

"Don't just stand there blathering, boy.  Go get a cloth to
clean up
this mess!"  Diana batted ineffectively at the crimson stain
rapidly
spreading across her full, silk skirts.


Fox hurried toward the kitchen for a proper cloth, only to be
pulled
up short by a snarling Mrs. Mitchell.  "What did you do now, you
ill-manner little reprobate?"

"It wasn't me, ma'am.  The lady accidently spilled her wine."

"Is that so?"  Mrs. Mitchell sneered, "Well, we'll just see about
that now won't we.  Austin, take this boy out to the woodshed and
put your strap to his backside.  And I want to hear his screams
all
the way in here.  It's important that these fine folk know what
happens to clumsy servants at this inn."

Austin Mitchell grabbed Fox's arm, pulling him out the door and
to the nearby woodshed.  The light of the lantern cast a sickly
yellow glow across the dismal interior of the small but fearsome
structure.

"You know what to do, boy, pants down and straddle the end of
the sawhorse, legs wide.  Be quick about it!   The missus wants
to
hear some shouting coming from in here."

Mulder lowered his pants with shaking hands, leaning over the log
that lay on the sawhorses, ready to be cut into firewood.  The
rough bark scratched his soft, naked belly.  His bare bottom
turned
up high and waiting for the kiss of the strap.

"Stay in position, boy.  This is going to be a well and truly
done
hiding."

Mulder held his breath as he heard the familiar whistle of the
strap
through the air and then a streak of fire burned itself across
his
naked skin.  He bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood, not
wanting
the quality lady inside to hear his cries of pain.  She already
knew
what was happening to him, at least he wanted her to think he
could take it bravely.

The strap came down again, and then again, with little time
between for Fox to catch his breath as his bottom ignited and
burst
into flames.  He held on tightly to sides of the log, not
daring to
move his tortured butt out of harms way.  His bottom wiggled
frantically, his feet danced on the floor, but still he kept
his lips
sealed tightly shut.

"You'd best," Smack!  "start yelling,"  Smack!  Smack!  "your
head off, boy."  Smack!  Smack!  "The missus,"  Smack!  "won't
be happy,"  Smack!  Smack!  Smack!  "until she hears,"  Smack!
"you crying,"  Smack!  Smack!  "like a baby!"  Smack!  Smack!
Smack! Smack!

The strap now started cracking on  previously punished skin and
Fox could feel his bottom blistering under the relentless
leathering.
He bounced his bottom harder, his feet kicking out behind him.
Nothing helped to alleviate the terrible fire burning so
fiercely on
his hindquarters.

"Oh-h-h-h-h, please stop!  No more!  No more!"  Fox sobbed
brokenly.

"Ah, so now we can really begin.  Remember, Fox, the missus
wants to hear your appreciation of this fine strapping I'm giving
you.  Don't disappoint her."

The strap became a relentless serpent, biting each and every inch
of naked, unprotected skin.  Fox became frantic and then
hysterical
as the strap came down again and again, biting, stinging, flaying
the flesh from his very bones.  He sobbed, he pleaded, he
promised
anything just to make the strap stop its evil work.  Nothing
saved
his bottom from even one of its allocated strokes.

"What was that!"  Lady Diana asked as Fox's first scream filled
the air.

"Nothing for you to worry about, my lady," Mrs. Mitchell assured.
"Just a naughty serving boy getting his tail well-strapped for
spilling your wine, that's all.  I'll venture he'll be a site
more
careful in the future."

"I've no doubt he will."  Lady Diana smirked as she listened to
Fox screamed piteously.

"Tell me, good woman," Diana patted her lips with a lace-trimmed
handkerchief.  "Is the boy available for pleasure?"

"I'm sorry, my lady, but he is not."  Millie ground out with
obvious resentment.  "My husband negotiated his contract, and not
at all well if you ask me."

"A pity," Diana pouted prettily.  "I am Lady Diana Fowley, niece
of the Duke of Fowley and third cousin to the king himself.  Are
you quite sure there's nothing you can do?"

"No, my lady, my hands are tied."  Millie licked her lips
nervously.
Nobility had to be handled so very carefully, used to getting
exactly what they wanted without dispute.  "Perhaps it would
please my lady to have the boy decorate a corner while you finish
your meal.  He's a find looking lad, very easy on the eye.  And
with that freshly striped bottom, should be most entertaining."

"Well, I suppose if that is the best you have to offer."

Shortly, a naked, still sobbing Fox was dragged into the main
room
and shoved into a corner, his bare, scarlet-striped bottom on
full
display for all to see.

"If the boy were to be made available to us for the evening,"
Higgins laid a fat purse on the table.  "Who would be the wiser?"

Mrs. Mitchell considered it, her eyes glued to the pouch of gold
the man had pulled from his pocket.  She could certainly use the
money but truth be told, that Mr. Blevins scared her.  She didn't
have the nerve to cross the man.  Not yet anyway.  "I'm deeply
sorry, sir.  Perhaps another time."  The older woman turned
regretfully back to her bed lest she be tempted to taunt the
devil
and lose more than her immortal soul.

The Lady Diana Fowley and her faithful friend, Sir Thomas
Higgins, rose from the table, their eyes never leaving the
tragically
beautiful creature inhabiting the corner.  Higgins moved to stand
behind the boy for a long while, just looking at his strong young
body and throbbing, red bottom, not having to look again to
remember those full, luscious lips and that enchanting little
mole
on the boy's right cheek.  This mere serving boy was truly
magnificent.  Sir Higgins didn't understand in the slightest
why a
man of his stature should be denied such a desirable morsel.

He ran a hand over the hot, scorched butt, earning a flinch and a
hiss of pain form the well-whipped servant.  Such a waste to
leave
such a one as this in a corner all night when he would be so much
more useful warming the bed of the upper class.

"You'd best listen to my missus."  Austin Mitchell smiled as Sir
Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin, thinking he was all alone
with the defenseless serving boy.  "She isn't one to be trifled
with.
You can ask the boy about that.  I'm sure he'd rather face me and
my razor strop any day as have to tangle with my missus.  Ain't
that right, boy?"

"Yes, sir."  Fox sniffed, the picture of desolate misery.

Higgins sighed as he once more ran his hand over the firm, taut
muscles of Fox's burning backside.  "Oh all right, but I want you
to know I think this is a waste of a fine looking lad.  A
terrible
waste."

"I couldn't agree more, sir, but it's the way it must be for
now.  Me
and my missus, we have little choice in this matter.  Were it
up to
us, we'd have your gold, and you would be upstairs buried deep in
that pretty, red bottom as we speak."

"Humph!"  The nobleman huffed as he turned to follow a
disappointed Lady Diana up to their room.  Neither of them
accustomed to themselves or their gold being denied.  Sir Thomas
and the Lady Diana left the next day without another word to the
innkeepers or their serving boy.

Mulder spent the next morning cleaning the stables, his head
reeling from hunger and fatigue.  He had not been allowed to
return to his bed the night before, spending what few hours that
had remained of the evening standing in the corner.  Now he
literally swayed with fatigue.

"Ps-s-s-st!  Hey, that you Fox?"

"What is it, Duane?"  Mulder asked, not bothering to look up from
his task of shoveling muck from a stall.

"Are you alone.  Duane Barry doesn't want to see no one else
today."

Mulder sighed.  He felt sorry for Duane.  The man had been a
king's courier until he was kidnaped by pirates and abused both
physically and sexually while on board their ship.

During a battle with a French merchant ship, Duane had been
injured when a cannon ball disintegrated beside him, deadly
shrapnel lodging in the front of his head.  He shouldn't have
lived
to tell the story.  Though Duane had recovered physically, he had
never been the same.  Duane Barry was distrustful of every living
soul and prone to fits of extreme violence at the slightest
provocation.  The only good thing about the situation, as far as
Mulder could see,  was that both Millie and Austin Mitchell
appeared to be somewhat afraid of the unstable Duane Barry.  Why
they allowed him to stay, Mulder could not even hazard a guess
and Duane either didn't know or refused to tell him.

"I'm the only one here, Duane.  How are you feeling today?"

"Duane Barry feels fine, Fox.  Just fine.  You don't look so good
though."

"I'm just a little tired and hungry, Duane.  Mrs. Mitchell hasn't
seen fit to feed me for a while.  I'll be fine."

"Have they beat you again, Fox?  Duane Barry doesn't like it when
they beat you."

"I know you don't Duane but last time you tried to protect me,
Mr.
Mitchell used his strap on you to.  I don't want you to do that
again, Duane.  Do you hear me?  You can't defend me anymore."

"Mr. Mitchell says the pirates will come get Duane Barry again.
I
can't ever go back there, Fox!  I'll kill that mean Mr.
Mitchell if he
lets the pirates try to take me again.  I'll . . ."

"Duane!  Duane, listen to me.  You've got to calm down, Duane.
You can't kill him.  They'll hang you for that, Duane.  Do you
hear
me?  You can't kill Mr. Mitchell, Duane."

Barry smiled.  He liked Fox.  The younger man always listened to
him and believed him, too.  Not like the everybody else who
thought Duane Barry was crazy.  Duane liked Fox a lot.  "Don't
worry, Fox.  Duane Barry will be all right.  You'll see.  Duane
Barry won't be taken by the pirates again.  I'll give them
someone
else this time.  That's all Duane Barry has to do.  Give them
someone else."

"You could give me to them, Duane.  I want to get back to Captain
Skinner before Mr. Blevins comes for me."

Duane smiled again, sadly this time.  "No, Fox.  I couldn't do
that
to you.  Duane Barry couldn't give you to the pirates."

"But . . ."

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Both men turned wild eyed to where Austin Mitchell stood
blocking the light from the open stable door.

Mulder swallowed hard as Austin Mitchell stalked toward them.
He could see Duane out of the corner of his eye, slinking back
like
a cornered animal.

"Sorry, Mr. Mitchell," Mulder held up one hand in a placating
manner.  "Duane was just asking if he could help me with the
stalls, that's all.  I'll get right back to work and have this
all done
before you know it."

"Too late, boy."  Mitchell turned from the indentured servant to
the irritating lunatic who refused to leave his property.  "I've
warned you before, Duane."

Mitchell pulled a heavy coil of rope down from the stall as he
continued to descend on the terrified Barry.  Duane had pulled
himself up into a ball in a far corner of the barn, whimpering
pitifully as he watched the big man move closer.

"Mr. Mitchell," Fox tried again.  "Please, leave Duane alone.  He
didn't mean any harm."

Austin Mitchell turned without warning, one big ham-like fist
shooting out to catch the cabin boy right under his chin.  Mulder
went down without ever knowing what had happened.

The big innkeeper turned back to the wide-eyed Barry.  "You're
gonna' pay this time, Duane.  And I'm gonna' give your pretty pup
there the same treatment while you watch.  Then I'm going to tell
the pirates to come get you tonight while you sleep."

Duane panicked, lunging like a madman from his corner, only to
be met by the same devastating right hook that had so easily
felled
Mulder.  While Duane say dazed on the floor, Mitchell stripped
him of his clothing, tied the rope around his ankles, threw the
loose end up over a rafter and pulled Duane Barry up to dangle
upside down in the dim light of the old barn.

"Let Duane Barry down!"

"Shut up, boy.  I'll let you down when I'm finished with you and
not a minute sooner."  Mitchell then turned his attention to
Mulder, quickly stripping the beautiful younger man of his shirt
and breeches.  Soon the cabin boy joined Duane, hanging upside
down from the barn loft.

* * *
"Why are we stopping again!  I need to find Fox, we don't have
time to stop here!"

"Walter," Reggie ran an exasperated hand over his face.  "We've
been riding all night.  We need to rest the horses and get a good
meal in us before we continue on to the next town."

"But that shopkeeper said he saw an unconscious man fitting Fox's
description being taken in this direction.  That was over a week
ago.  We have to catch up to him.  We don't have time to stop!"

"Walter Skinner, I know you're upset and anxious to find your boy
but I say we're stopping here for some food, and I have no
intention of changing my mind.  So unless you want to have the
rest of this discussion with the business end of my belt, I
suggest
you . . ."

"And why did you send Lucius back to the ship?  He could have
been a big help to us."

"We've already gone over that, Walter.  He's also a great help to
Mr. Byers in keeping the men in line, especially that scalawag,
Robert Modell.  Whom, I might remind you, is your personal guest
on this voyage.  When Lucius is on board, the man is as quiet
as a
church mouse but the minute the vamp . . .I mean, the minute
Lucius leaves the ship Modell's out of his cabin and causing
trouble again."

"Skinner crossed his arms over his massive chest, "You don't care
if we find Fox or not.  You never have!  Well, I'm going on
without you!"

Reggie grabbed the bridle of Skinner's horse before the captain
could make good on his get away.  "You listen to me, boy, I'm
going in here to arrange for a meal and some other things that I
feel certain can't wait until later.  If you aren't here when I
get
back, you will be one very sorry young man when I catch up with
you next."

Skinner glared down at his former captain.  Purdue didn't bat a
lash, finally forcing Walter to look away.  "Oh all right, but
hurry
up about it.  I won't wait all day!"

"Oh, I think you will."

Reggie walked into the country way station, looking around
cautiously.  He winched as he spotted the mistress of the inn, a
plump, greasy woman in a stained apron.

"Madame, I have need of some provisions for my friend and
myself."

"If the color of your gold be right, I can supply most anything
you
need."

Reggie glanced out the dirty window to the outbuildings that
lay in
back of the small inn.  He smiled to himself.

"In that case, good madame, I would like bread, meats and cheese,
two skins of your best ale, and the use of your woodshed for the
next half hour.  Can that be arranged?"

Mrs. Mitchell smiled evilly, trying to look out into the yard. 
"Got
yourself a boy what needs correcting, do you?"

"You could say that.  How much for the use of the shed?"

"Well now, that's a find woodshed, it is.  Fully equipped and
kept
in top condition by almost daily use for our serving boy.  He's a
handful he is.  I don't think I could let you have it for less
than, oh
say . . ."

Reggie lay two gold coins on the table in front of the greedy
woman.  "Will that suffice, madame."

"Yes sir," Millie snatched up the gold coins in one fat, moist
hand.
"That should do quite well.  I'll have your bread, cheese and ale
ready by the time you're finished with your other . . .duties."

Reggie cringed in disgust as she chuckled evilly, displaying a
mouthful of blackened teeth.

Walter still sat on his horse, arms crossed, eyes glaring at
the door
behind which Reggie had disappeared.  His expression darkened
even further as the older man came out, hands empty of the
promised provisions.

"I thought you were going to get yourself some food so we could
be on our way?"

"The innkeeper is putting it together for me right now.  In the
mean time I've purchased a little something for you."

"I told you I don't want anything.  I just want to find Fox and
we
aren't going to do it by sitting here."

"I've had enough of your attitude, Walter!  It's dangerously
hindering your ability to think straight and concentrate your
energy
on finding Fox."

Just then the quiet countryside was torn by a sharp cry coming
from the direction of the barn.  It was quickly followed by
another
and then another.

"Should we go see what's going on in there?"  Skinner asked, his
eyes glued to the barn door.

"No, the innkeeper told me they have a serving boy who's been
giving them some difficulty.  Probably no more than a well
deserved hot bottom for a troublesome boy.  You need to come
with me now, Walter."

"I don't have time to . . ."

"Walter," Reggie said in that voice that booked no refusal.  "You
<will> follow me at once."

* * *
Mitchell watched as the two naked men swung slowly by their
bound feet.  Two pairs of taught, round bare buttocks swaying at
eye level, waiting without hope of reprieve for the sound
blistering
that had been promised them.  He walked up to Mulder, running a
hand slowly over the semi-conscious man's long, lean form.

"He's a real beauty, isn't he, Duane?"

"Leave him alone!  He's Duane Barry's friend."

"Is he now?  Just how <friendly> did you get with the pretty boy,
Duane?  You haven't been taking advantage of him, have you?
Maybe a little slap and tickle while the two of your were out
here
all alone in the barn?"

"No!  I wouldn't do that to him.  Please, let Duane Barry's
friend
down!"

Mitchell picked up a small slat of wood that had been laying
discarded in a corner of the barn.  It was about two feet long
and
eight inches wide, and an inch thick.  Perfect for his intended
use.

"I'll let him down when you've both learned a good lesson, Duane.
You first."

Mitchell brought the wood well behind his back, aiming for the
exposed buttocks of the hanging man.  He swung with all his
might, laughing as the wood made contact with tender,
unprotected skin.  Barry screamed as his body swung forward from
the force of the blow.  Mitchell hesitated as he watched the
red hot
stripe appear on Duane's previously white backside.  He brought
the wood back for the next stroke, waiting until the momentum of
Duane's body brought him back into perfect position.

"Hold on, Duane.  This one is really gonna' sting."

Duane screamed again.  Mulder moaned softly.

* * *
"You . . .you did what?"

"I gave the mistress two gold coins for the use of her woodshed.
Now get your pants down and over the sawhorse.  We don't have
all day."

"But . . ."

"I've put up with your ill temper for days, Walter.  I know
you're
upset.  I know you want to find Fox but you aren't going to do
that
if you can't concentrate on what you're doing.  We can't just run
from town to town on nothing more than gossip and flimsy here
say.  You have to clear your head so you can use that immense
logic of yours to solve this problem.  This is the best way I
know to
get the job done."

"Please Reggie.  They'll hear me inside."

"So what?  It's not like we'll ever have a reason to come back
here, and they'll never know that they had the infamous pirate,
Walter Skinner gracing their sawhorse while his bottom got a good
and much deserved scouring.  Now get in place before I really
lose
my temper."

Captain Skinner lowered his leather breeches, bending over the
rough wood of the sawhorse.  He shuddered as another scream of
pain could be heard from the barn.

* * *
Duane Barry swung slowly back and forth from the barn rafters,
his bottom and thighs a mass of throbbing blisters.  There wasn't
an inch of exposed flesh that had not been bruised by the hard
cracks of the makeshift paddle.

Duane sobbed hard, making nondescript sounds, that no one,
including himself could understand.

Mulder moaned again, his head feeling like it was about to come
loose from his body.  Not only did his jaw feel like it was
broken
in a dozen pieces, but all the blood had run to his head and it
was
pounding like a blacksmith's hammer.

"Six more, Duane.  Right where you'll feel them the most!"
Mitchell wasn't even trying to hide the smile on his face. 
"Better
wake up and pay attention, Fox, that pretty bottom of your's is
next
in line."

"He . . .he's had enough, Mr. Mitchell."  Mulder tried to raise
his
head to stop some of the painful throbbing in his temples.  "Six
more and he won't be able to walk."

"Who cares.  He's never any help around here anyway.  And I
suggest you spend your time worrying about your own comely ass,
Fox."

The innkeeper placed the paddle on Duane Barry's thoroughly
punished cheeks, carefully sizing up his intended target for what
lay in store.  The next six would land on that fleshy, soft under
curve right above Barry's thighs.  Right where he would want to
sit, were sitting even a remote possibility in his future. 
Mitchell
brought the piece of wood back behind him and let fly with his
hardest stroke yet.  Duane screamed in agony.

* * *
Reggie looked around the woodshed with approval.  Two well
oiled straps hung conveniently from a hook by the door.  A large
crock stood in one corner, the tops of several well-made birch
rods
peeking out of their brine-filled hiding place.

"I'll let you decide, Walter.  What shall it be?  Fifty stokes
of a
good razor strop or a mere twelve with the birch.  It's a long
ride
to the next town, I'd choose carefully if I were you."

Skinner whimpered in dread as his bare bottom quivered in
anticipation.  Fifty with the strop would leave him sore for days
but the birch was a terrible instrument.  It's tiny branches
reaching
out to insidiously torture every part of a bared bottom at once.

"The . . ." Skinner took a deep, shaky breath.  "The birch."

"Good choice, Walter.  Now hold on, I intend for these to sting.
And you'll have to spread your legs a lot wider than that if you
expect the birch to do its best work today."

* * *
Mulder glanced over to where Duane still hung, his flesh bruised
purple from hip to knees.  Barry had passed out before the final
blow had landed on his bruised and blistered backside.  He'd
never
seen a punishment like the one Duane Barry had just taken.  He
hoped he never did again.  Even Captain Skinner and his cat-o-
nine-tails didn't do that much damage to the human body.  The
cabin boy shuddered.

"You don't need to fret so, Fox.  Only six for you.  The missus
has
a full day's work planned for your sweet ass, and she'd be a
might
miffed if I laid you up with this board."

Mitchell positioned himself behind the gently swaying cabin boy,
admiring once again the graceful flow of back and buttock.  "You
sure are a looker, Fox.  Too bad Blevins found you first.  Now
hold
on, this is gonna' hurt something fierce.  Six good, hot
stingers and
all on the same spot."

Mulder felt the board leave his bottom, then a swish of air as it
came forward from behind the innkeepers back.  He screwed his
eyes shut even harder just as the first blast bit into his
tender flesh.
He screamed as his whole body shot forward, swinging high from
the rope that held him suspended from the barn roof.

* * *
Skinner's head came up abruptly, "What was that?  It almost
sounded like . . ."

He was interrupted as the devilish birch landed for the first
time on
his wide-spread, tightly stretched backside.  The captain
grunted as
the pain consumed his whole being, the cries coming from the barn
forgotten for the moment.  He held on tightly to his cock and
balls
as instructed, keeping them well out of harms way.  He wished he
could do the same for his naked, protruding bottom.

"I expect a count, Walter."

"One, sir."

The birch descended for the second time, tiny buds biting into
the
exposed mounds and the deep crevice that separated them, the
tender skin rippling under the kiss of the effective little tool.

"Tw . . .two, sir!"

The birch blazed again, tiny drops of liquid spraying from the
soaked switches, coating Skinner's injured butt with a line
mist of
stinging brine.

"Three!  Ouch-h-h-h-h!"

From somewhere in the back of his mind, the screams from the
barn that now were nothing more than an accompaniment to his
own cries of distress, sparked a tinge of recognition. 
However, the
scorching bite of the birch didn't allow his small suspicion to
surface fully in his mind.

* * *
Finally Mitchell cut Duane Barry down.  The man fell to the cold,
barn floor, still out to the world.  Mitchell took the
opportunity to
land a good, strong kick to the unconscious man's ribs.

Mulder's eyes narrowed in disgust but he didn't dare comment.
Once his own rope had been cut and he was lowered only slightly
more gently to the floor, he crawled over to take care of Duane.

"Leave him!  You have work to do."

"He's hurt!  I have to help him."

A boot landed squarely on Mulder's sore bottom, pushing him face
first onto the floor.  "I said <no> and I meant <no>.  Leave
him be!
Finish cleaning the barn!  And don't bother with your clothes
yet.
I think spending a few hours with that red, sore butt on
display will
do you some good.  Not to mention being entertaining for me and
my Millie.  As soon as the noon day customers leave, you come up
to the kitchen and start scrubbing Millie's pots."

"Yes, sir."  Duane still hadn't moved.

Mulder looked toward the closed door of the barn as he heard an
agonized howl come from the direction of the woodshed.  He
shook his head, feeling sorry for whoever was on the receiving
end
up there.

* * *
"Tw . . .Oh!  Ouch! Twelve!"

Reggie Purdue looked down at the welted butt of the man he loved
like his own son.  "I don't like having to do that to you,
Walter.  If
it weren't so important that we find Fox, I'd have let you just
go on
mucking around as you were.  You'll thank me for this one day."

"Of course I will."  Skinner swiped at his tear stained eyes,
then
moved both hands to rub gingerly on his wounded flanks.  "You
just telling yourself that, Reggie."

"Do you need a few more, Walter?  This birch still has some life
left in it."

"No!  I mean, no sir, I'm sorry, Captain Purdue.  I'm fine now,
really.  I don't know what gets into me when Fox is in danger.  I
just don't seem to be able to think straight."

"It's called <love>, Walter and it was about damned time you
found some for yourself.  Unfortunately it had to be with the
most
hard-headed, disobedient, irritating brat I've ever had the
misfortune to meet.  Now get up and get dressed.  Our food should
be ready and we can be on our way."

Walter Skinner winced as his sore bottom made contact with the
hard saddle.  It was going to be a very long ride into the next
town.
He watched as Reggie paid the smirking mistress of the inn. The
nasty woman sneaking a peek at him every few seconds.  He felt
his face flush as he glanced over to see a big, mean looking man
come out of the barn, throwing a short piece of wood aside as he
firmly shut the barn door behind him.  He felt sorry for the
serving
boy on the other side of that door.

* * *
Walter Skinner and Reggie Purdue had been gone less than five
minutes when the front door of the inn burst open to admit none
other than Mr. Blevins himself.

"Mr. Blevins, sir, have to come for the boy?"  Austin Mitchell
asked nervously wondering how Blevins would feel about what
he'd just done to his servant.

"Master Mitchell, my good man, I've merely come to check on
Fox.  That pirate riffraff, Captain Walter Skinner, is still
skulking
about making inquiries into the whereabouts of my duly bought
and paid for servant.  The nerve of the man is beyond belief!"

"Quite."  Mitchell ran a hand through his thinning hair.  "Uh,
I was
just going out to finish some chores in the barn.  Fox has been
working there.  Why don't you sit down and have a nice mug of
our fine ale and I'll send the boy up to you."

"Yes, very good.  I could use a little gentlemanly libation right
about now.  It's a long, dusty ride from town."

When a fully dressed Mulder walked into the room, the first thing
he saw was Scott Blevins, sprawled at a table, two full mugs of
ale
in front of him.

"Fox!  Come see me, my boy."  Blevins patted his knee invitingly.

Mulder shook his head, eyes wide as he took a step back only to
run into the stone wall that was Austin Mitchell's hard body.

Two other men who sat eating a late noon meal, looked up with
interest as the innkeeper pushed a reluctant Mulder forward to
take
a seat upon the merchant's eager lap.

Blevins wasted little time in pulling the clothing free of his
property's warm body.  He smiled and winked at the innkeeper as
he revealed the red, hot bottom that had been hidden under the
ragged pants.

"I see you're taking very good care of my boy, Master Mitchell."

The innkeeper breathed a sigh of relief.  "I do what needs to be
done, Mr. Blevins."

"So I see," Blevins chuckled as he clasped a piece of the
scorched
bottom flesh between two fingers, pinching cruelly.  Mulder
moaned in anguish as the merchant's other fat hand came up to
join the first in kneading both well-punished cheeks mercilessly.

"Sore, Fox?"

"Ye . . .yes, sir!"

Blevins grinned as he continued to prod and pull at the smarting
globes.  "Once I have you back at the counting house where you
belong, you'll be hot and red like this every day.  You won't
even
remember what it was like to sit down without your pretty bottom
protesting mightily."

Blevins landed a sharp smack to the right cheek, "And now that
Mrs. Blevins has thrown me out of the house, there's no reason
why you can't extend your duties to warming my cold bed at night,
now it there?"

"Threw you out, did she?"  Millie asked, knowing it was unwise
but too nosey to keep still.

"Yes, the woman's gone daft!"  Blevins snapped as he twisted sore
flesh between his fingers.  "Says she's waiting for the vampire
to
come for her again.  The <vampire> mind you!  Personally I could
care less as long as she leaves my counting house and my
indentured servant alone.  I never did like that big mausoleum
of a
house anyway."

Millie nodded her head sagely, not believing a word of it.

Blevins seemed to fall into a morose funk after that, gulping
down
another four mugs of ale and fondling his naked and exceedingly
reluctant servant.  Finally he extracted his fingers from
Mulder's
hot, tight body and staggered to his feet, pulling Mulder up with
him.

"I have to be going before that damned pirate shows up again. 
I've
just narrowly avoided meeting up with him at least a dozen times,
and I don't want my luck to run out now.  He shook Mulder by the
scruff of his neck.  "You mark my words, boy, he'll not be taking
you again.  You belong to me and it's going to stay that way."

He gave Mulder a stout push backwards as he stumbled out the
door and unsteadily mounted his horse.

* * *
Another week had passed.  Fox had managed to sneak out to the
barn, bringing his own meager ration of food to Duane.  He had
also managed to steal a jar of horse ligament from the kitchen
while Mrs. Mitchell wasn't looking.  He shuddered to think what
would happen to him if she found it missing.

It had taken several days but finally Duane had started to
improve.
He was now up and moving around, albeit very slowly.  Physically,
he should be completely healed in another week.  The cabin boy,
however, sincerely doubted the man would ever heal emotionally
from this latest ordeal.  Duane Barry now flatly refused to come
out of his hiding place in the barn, for any reason.

Mulder's legs trembled as his feet fought for purchase on the
slimy, black mold that covered the stone steps leading up from
the
cellar, the heavy rum barrel digging into his sore back.

There was no hand rail to pull himself forward but even if there
had been, he needed both arms to balance his unwieldy burden.
He finally staggered to the top of the stairs only to be met
with a
burst of pain as Mrs. Mitchell's wicked switch landed across his
backside.  He cried out in pain, this lash having crossed
another he
had received yesterday for not getting the kitchen floor clean
enough to satisfy his mistress.

"What took you so long, boy?  I'll not have a lazy slacker here
to
feed.  You'll earn your keep or else."  The switch landed again
with a loud crack across the seat of his pants.  "Now get
yourself
over there and see if those fine gentleman would like another mug
o' ale and be quick about it."

Mulder set down the heavy rum barrel, glancing carefully around
the room. A table in the corner was occupied by two men, talking
in whispers, their hooded capes pulled low across their faces.
They could be passing clergy but somehow they looked far too
dangerous and unpredictable for that.  Another man sat alone at a
table, engrossed in his plate of buttered beans and bread.  The
four
men that he had been ordered to attend, sat together, talking
loudly
and laughing drunkenly.  They worried Mulder most of all.  They
reminded the cabin boy of Blevins and his friends when they were
well into their cups.

"That's August Bremer, the highwayman."  Austin Mitchell hissed
into Mulder's ear, startling the serving boy, who hadn't realized
the innkeeper stood beside him.  "The surly one next to him is
his right hand, Jacob Haley.  Pretty thing like you had best
watch
himself around those kind of men."

Mulder took a deep breath as he walked forward toward the table,
"Would you like another ale, gentlemen?"

A big man with cold, hard eyes looked up, one brow raised high on
his forehead.  "It's not ale I'm looking for, beauty.  Why
don't you
come over here and sit on my lap so's I can show you what I
really
want."

Mulder backed away a step, watching the men warily.  "I'm not
allowed to be so familiar with the customers, sir, but I'd be
glad to
get you another ale or perhaps some food."

A lump formed in Mulder's throat as the man glared at him and
whistled for Mrs. Mitchell.  "Mistress, a word please!"

"Leave the kid alone, August."  Haley scowled down into his ale.
"We got more important things to think about than what that boy
has between his legs."

"Shut up, Haley.  I'm still runnin' this gang," Bremer gave the
other man a pointed look.  "Don't think I don't know about your
plans to take over.  You'd best be forgetting about that,
Jacob, my
friend.  I'm the leader here and what I say goes.  And right
now . . .I say I'm gonna' have me a piece of the pretty boy."

Millie Mitchell frowned at the trembling Mulder as she made her
way over to the table, "What is it, sir?  If this boy's been
rude to
you in any way, I assure you . . ."

"Not rude so much as uncooperative, madame.  I am but a lonely
traveler in need of a little companionship."  The man hesitated,
waiting for his other two cohorts to stop snickering into their
ale
mugs.  "I merely requested he sit upon my lap and he refused."

The man plopped down a hefty bag of gold.  Mrs. Mitchell licked
her lips greedily as she eyed the fat purse.  "He . . .he isn't
for
sale."

The man rattled the bag, making the gold clink invitingly.  "Not
even for a price."  He threw another bag on the table.  "After
all,
he's just a serving boy."

Mrs. Mitchell licked her lips again.  "I . . .he . . ."

"How about this, mistress?  I'll give you a bag of my gold and in
return this handsome young man will sit on my lap.  Surely there
can be no harm in a little friendly fondle, now can there?"

The innkeeper glanced over at Mulder, who was blushing and
shaking his head frantically.  Her eyes hardened.

"No, I can see no harm in a little slap and tickle, might even do
this uppity boy some good."  She held out her hand for the gold.

The man lay the bag in her covetous palm, holding another bag
slightly above her grasping paw.  "And without his clothing?
Naked as the day he was born?  Beautiful and bare under my
hands?  What price for that, Mistress?"

The woman smiled evilly, "I think that other bag should just
about
cover it."  She turned to Mulder who looked ready to bolt for the
door.   "And you do what you're told or it'll be your hide
that'll
pay for it.  You got that, boy?"

Mulder backed up another step, knowing any protest would
ultimately prove fruitless.  He gasped as his wrist was caught
in an
iron grip, eyes widening as the smiling man pulled out a large,
sharp knife.  "Better behave, pretty boy.  You're mine now."

Mulder gasped as he was slammed face down onto the table, the
shirt being torn from his body.  He heard one of the men above
him whistle. "Looks like you've a very bad little boy on your
hands, Mr. Bremer."

Mulder hissed as a heavy finger ran across the welts that
decorated
his shoulders.  "Pretty."  He heard his captor breathe, and
shivered
at the implications of that one word.

Mulder felt the knife move to the cuff of his pants and panicked.
"No please, I don't have any others!"

The knife ripped through the old, worn material like it was soft
butter.  Mulder soon lay naked and shivering across the heavy oak
table.

"Well, its time you did.  These are filthy, my pretty."  The
man ran
his hand over Mulder's smooth bottom.  "But you're clean enough.
How is that, boy?"

"I told you, I don't have any other clothing.  I still bathe
every day
even if I can't change clothes."

"A serving boy who bathes every day, how novel."  Bremer pulled
Mulder up and into his lap, running his hands over the inside
of the
serving boy's thighs before wrapping a hand around his cock.  "Do
you like that, my pretty?"

"No, sir."  Mulder glanced up to see the two hooded men watching
him closely, their faces still shrouded in shadow.  One of them
sat
with every muscle in his body straining forward to better see
what
was unfolding before him, obviously enjoying the show.  One
thing certain, there would be no help coming from that quarter.
Men like that didn't waste their time saving hapless serving boys
who were only getting what they deserved.  Mulder's face burned
with humiliation.

Mulder looked over to the other man in the room.  The one who
had been so intent on his meal only minutes ago.  He too now had
his eyes glued to the naked man being mauled so publicly.  Mulder
shivered as Bremer put his big, moist lips against his chest and
sucked hard at his tender nipple.  He felt another pair of hands
rubbing at the switch marks on his shoulders.  Haley may not be
happy with the current leadership of their little band of
thieves, but
he was shamelessly enjoying the obvious pain he was helping to
cause for the young indentured servant.

The big hand that held his cock so tightly began to pump him.  He
squeezed his eyes closed against his body's natural reaction to
this
attention.  It had been a long time since he had been with his
captain, and his traitorous cock didn't seem to know the
difference.  But Mulder knew and he once again burned with
shame that he could become aroused at this debasing treatment.

Two big tears slowly slid down the cabin boy's cheeks at the
thought of his lost captain.

"He's a cold fish, Bremer.  I think you need to warm his
backside a
little.  Get him hot for you.  Never fails."

Mulder yelped as the big man bite down hard on his nipple,
pulling
it painfully away from his chest as he let go of it.  The
highwayman then leaned forward and licked the swollen little nub
like a big cat playing with a captured mouse.  Mulder shivered
with revulsion.

"I think you may be right, Harmon."  Bremer pushed Mulder off
his lap, jerking him around to pull him face down where he had
just been sitting.  "Do you like my lap better from this angle,
boy.
You're probably more used to having this side up, I'd say."

Mulder resolutely looked up and over his shoulder as the big
man's hand came down hard on his upturned bottom.  He refused
to cry out.  Refused to acknowledge the pain Bremer was causing
him.  He watched as if the bared bottom belonged to someone else
as it  quivered and reddened under the man's relentlessly
punishing hand.

"You're a tough one, you are, but you aren't getting up from here
until you've shed a barrel of tears for me, pretty boy.  So the
longer
that takes, the more fun I have."

Mulder bit down on his bottom lip until he tasted his own salty
blood.  He squeezed his eyes shut and resolutely looked down at
the floor.  He would pass out before he gave this man the
satisfaction of hearing him cry.

Bremer stuck a big, stubby finger in his mouth, then without
warning shoved it up inside the cabin boy.  Mulder screamed in
pain, his bottom wiggling frantically.

"That ought to keep you well in place while I heat up this bottom
for you.  Do you like that, boy?  Do you like the feel of me
filling
that tight little hole of yours?"

"I think that's enough!"

The voice was soft, dark and dangerous.  Nothing more than a
whisper but it somehow carried all the menace in the world in
it's
sultry tones.

Mulder looked back up over his shoulder, this time to see one of
the dangerous hooded men with a razor sharp saber pointed at
Bremer's throat.

"This is none of your business, friend.  I paid for the use of
this
boy.  He's mine to do with as I wish."

"And just whom did you pay?"

"Why his mistress, of course."

"I happen to know for a fact that this particular boy doesn't
have a
mistress.  He belongs to me."

"Captain?"  Mulder gasped softly, distressed that his voice
cracked
on the word.

"Dammit Walter, why'd you have to go and do that?  Now we're
never going to catch Blevins."  Reggie pulled the hood off his
head, standing with his hands planted firmly on his hips.  "He
was
just giving the kid a spanking.  It's not like he doesn't
deserve two
or three that I know of, probably more!"

Without warning Reggie had whirled around, his sword now
pointing at Mrs. Mitchell's fat neck.  "You got a problem with us
taking our cabin boy out of here, mistress?"

"No, sir!  Not at all.  He's more trouble than he's worth
anyway!'

"I'd say that's a mighty astute observation, madame.  Now if you
and your husband will kindly move over behind these gentlemen,
we'll be on our way."

"What about me?"  A voice quivered from under a far table.  It
was the man who had stopped in for an ill-fated noon meal.

"You going to try to stop us?"  Reggie asked.

"Not me!"

"Then just stay where you are and you won't get hurt.  And YOU,"
Reggie pointed to the man who still held Fox over his knees. 
"If I
were you, I'd let him up.  The captain has a very short fuse
when it
comes to that brat."

Mulder scrambled up from the man's lap, his eyes now filling with
tears as he was pulled into his captain's strong arms to be
hugged
tightly against his massive chest.  Skinner finally pulled back
enough to look Mulder over from heat to foot.  He lifted one big
paw to turn the cabin boy's face slightly to look at the yellow,
black and green of a fading bruise.

"What happened to his jaw?"

Austin Mitchell swallowed hard, "He . . .uh . . ."

"Indentured servants are supposed to do what they're told,"
Millie
stuck her own chin out defiantly, sure of the truth of her
opinion
on this particular issue.  "He wouldn't work for his keep!"

The captain released Mulder, taking two steps to tower over the
now cringing woman.

"You hit him?"

"No!  It was my man."  Milled assured quickly, while Austin lost
even more of the color from his face.  "He had to hit the boy
to get
him to behave.  'Tis a common enough practice with the likes of
him."

"And just what <likes> would that be, madame?"  Skinner's face
had become an unhealthy shade of purple.  He turned when he felt
a hand on his arm.

"It's all right, sir."  Mulder shrugged his shoulders.  "It
didn't hurt
much and it's almost healed now.  Just let it go and we can
just get
out of here."  Mulder looked a little uncertain for a moment. 
"You
are taking me with you, aren't you?"

"Of course, although you may wish I hadn't when I'm done with
you."  Skinner turned to the innkeepers.  "Take the shackles off
him."

As Austin Mitchell hurried to do the pirate's bidding, his wife
tried
once more to plead for understanding.  "You can't take him.  If
Blevins comes back and finds him gone, he'll kill us all."

"I would find that no great loss, mistress."  Skinner snarled,
causing the woman to take an involuntary step back.  "I suggest
that if you don't want to face Mr. Blevins you make yourself
scarce but if you do see him, tell him that Captain Walter
Skinner
is looking for him."

Mrs. Mitchell took another step back, putting a trembling hand to
her throat, "Captain Skinner of the Chauve Terreur?  That Walter
Skinner?"

The captain pulled his hood back to reveal his perfect bald head.
"Yes madame, that would be the one.  Tell him he can run but he
can never hide.  He has to be punished for what he's done to my
cabin boy."

"Your. . .your . . .cabin boy . . ."  Millie Mitchell all but
choked on
her words.  "We had no idea!  We would never have . . ."

"But you did," Skinner said low and dangerously.  "You'd best be
gone from here.  Once Fox tells me all that's happened to him
while under your tender care, I may not be able to stop myself
from coming back here to further discuss his treatment with the
both of you.  As Captain Purdue pointed out, I have little
patience
when it comes to Fox's health and well being."

"Captain Purdue?  Reggie Purdue?"  Austin Mitchell grabbed for
his heart, his face as white as a sheet.  "Oh Lord have mercy
on us
all!"

"You'd best hope for Captain Skinner's mercy today, innkeeper."
Reggie brought forth an icy smile for the trembling man.  "The
Lord, I would think, has little pity for the likes of you. 
You've just
spent the past three weeks torturing one of his angels."

"Oh for heaven's sake, not that angel shit again!  Reggie, I
can't
believe you would. . ."  Mulder stopped mid-rant at the look he
received from both his captains.  He swallowed hard.  Maybe he'd
let them call him an angel, just this once.

Skinner pointed a big finger right at his nose.  "Not one word
from
you, brat.  You go get on my horse, I'll join you when I'm
finished
here.  Go!  Now!"

Mulder nodded, eyes wide as he ran from the room, hearing
Reggie's distinctive chuckle behind him.

"You haven't heard the last form me," Bremer warned.  "We'll be
seeing each other again."

"I look forward to it."  Skinner smiled evilly as he backed
slowly
out of the room.

* * *
"Uh sir, could I get dressed now?"  Mulder looked over his
shoulder to where his captain sat in the saddle behind him.

"You don't have any clothes.  Remember?"

"Oh."  Mulder squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position for
his abused bottom on the hard leather saddle.  The arm around his
waist tightened and he was pulled back to sit more fully on the
captain's lap.  He squirmed again.

The captain smiled.  He knew his lap was no more comfortable on
a sore bottom than the saddle but it was sure a hell of a lot
more
enjoyable for the captain.  "Sit still, brat.  We'll stop in a
few
minutes and I'll wrap a blanket around you.  I want to tend your
injuries as well.  I would be most unhappy if they were to leave
scars on your soft skin."

"How did you find me so quickly? " The cabin boy asked as
casually as possible, afraid he might disgrace himself with more
tears.

"Quickly?  I've been searching for you for three weeks, Fox!
Three weeks of pure hell, I might add.  How in the blasted hell
did
you get yourself all the way out here to some God-forsaken hell-
hole of an inn?  And why did you leave the ship to begin with?"

Mulder cringed away from the irate captain.  "Uh, Colton said
you'd been captured and they were going to hang you."

"Son of a bitch, I cannot believe that you would fall for the
same
damned lie a second time!  Don't you ever learn?  Do I have to
punish you every day of your life, Fox?  Tie you to my bed? 
What,
brat?  Can't we ever just live in peace and harmony?  Can't you
just once . . ."

Skinner stopped abruptly as the bare shoulders in front of him
shook with silent sobs.  His heart melted.  "Oh Fox, I'm sorry.
I
didn't mean it.  Well, I did but damn it, Fox . . ."

The captain halted the horse pulling the cabin boy around into
his
arms as the sobs broke free, sounding as if they were coming from
the very depths of the cabin boy's soul.

"Sh-h-h-h, there's no need to cry.  You're safe now."

"You're . . .you're right!  I am too much trouble.  You should
just
give me back to Blevins and forget you ever saw me."  Mulder
took a deep hitching breath, looking up at Skinner with hopeless,
hazel eyes.  "But please, even if you give me back, will you find
Samantha?  Make sure she's safe.  She's so sweet and kind, and
never any trouble.  Just that one thing, please captain?  You
don't
even have to do it for me.  Once you get to know Samantha you'll
see that you did the right thing.  You'll like <her>, really
you will.
She isn't anything like me.  And you'll never have to lay eyes on
me again.  I pro . . .I promise!"

Skinner pulled the sobbing cabin boy tightly against his chest
before he could see the captain's own errant tears.  "Oh for
heavens sake, Fox, do you really think I could let go of you? 
Stop
those tears.  You are a brat, but you're my brat and it's going
to
stay that way for the rest of our lives."  He rubbed a soothing
hand
over his cabin boy's bare, trembling back, "We'll find you sister
for you and we'll all live out our days on my beautiful island.
There isn't nearly as much for you to get in trouble with when
we're there."

"Th . . .there isn't?"  Mulder sniffed, looking at Skinner
skeptically.

The captain couldn't help but chuckle.  "No, not as much land
mast and we don't have that damned crow's nest to contend with."

The captain dismounted, carefully lifting the cabin boy down with
him.  "Come over here and sit on this rock, I want to look at
your
back before Reggie gets back with the rest of the crew."

Mulder looked up with horror filled eyes and then down at his own
nude body, heat rising to his face.  Skinner chuckled again as he
applied a soothing slave to the welts on Fox's shoulders and the
abrasions around his ankles left by the heavy, iron shackles he'd
had to wear for so long.

"I should have killed them for this."

"No.  It wasn't so bad.  You did the right thing to let them
live.  I
just hope Blevins doesn't catch up with them."

"You liked those people?"  Skinner had stopped bandaging
Mulder's ankles to stare at him incredulously.  "They tortured
you,
Fox!"

"Well no, I didn't particularly like them but I hardly think that
giving me a beating or two warrants a death sentence for anyone."

"That, my beautiful cabin boy, is a matter of opinion."  Skinner
pulled his own cloak from his body and wrapped it tightly around
his cabin boy's naked body.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you, sir."  Mulder looked down as he scraped a toe in
the soft dead leaves under his feet. "Is Tom Colton with the
rest of
the crew, sir?"

"No Fox, he disappeared the same night that you did.  We haven't
found him, nor have I been able to get my hands on that bastard,
Blevins."

"I can't say I'm sorry.  I really don't know what I'd say to
Colton
at this point."

"Don't worry about it, Fox.  I have our reunion with the man all
planned out."

Mulder nodded sadly, rubbing his aching stomach as it rumbled
loudly.  He looked up startled as Skinner bellowed with anger.

"What?"

"Don't tell me!"

"I can go well over four days without food now, sir."  Mulder
said
proudly, his smile transforming into a startled yelp as his
captain
swung him up into his big arms, reaching the waiting horse in
three giant strides.

"I will never understand why in the blasted hell these people
always feel like they have to starve you.  It isn't bad enough
that
they steal you from my bed on a regular basis, beat you senseless
at the first opportunity, and then make me trudge all over God's
green earth, not to mention vast seas, to find you.  They have to
starve you too?"

"I'm fine, sir."

"Shut up, Fox."  Skinner plopped his cabin boy down in the saddle
as he started rummaging through his saddle bags, finally pulling
out a chunk of bread and some dried fish wrapped in an oiled
cloth.  "Here eat this!  Every bite of it!  And you can just
wipe that
look off your face right now.  I don't care if you like it or
not,
you'll eat it.  I swear, the next person who doesn't feed you is
going to feel the point of my sword in some very unpleasant
places!"

Skinner shoved a skin of water into Mulder's hands before pulling
himself up behind his cabin boy.  He wrapped his arm tightly
around Fox's middle and gently kicked his horse forward, still
seething that Fox had once again experienced hunger.

Only minutes after finishing the made-shift meal, the captain
found himself with an armful of soundly sleeping cabin boy.  He
shifted Fox's weight around until he was lying more fully against
his captain's broad chest, snuggled warmly in the cradle of the
bigger man's arms.  Skinner was more than happy with the
arrangement as it gave him the opportunity to look down into the
ridiculously young and beautiful face of the peacefully
slumbering
man.  Something he didn't get to do nearly as much as he would
like.

* * *
"Have you gone completely mad?"

"Come on, Samantha," William Scully whined.  "You know I love
you, why won't you marry me?"

"You're a pirate."

"I can change that!"

She just looked at him skeptically.

"Really!  I have plenty of gold.  We can build a house here or we
can buy our own island or we can go to the colonies and start a
plantation.  We can do anything you want, sugar, anything!"

"My brother doesn't like you."

"I can change that!"

Samantha narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"Really!  I'll make Fox change his mind about me.  I'll be his
new
best friend.  You'll see, he'll come around.  I promise."

"You're too tall."

"I can change that!"

Samantha's brow climbed over her left eye.

"Well okay, that one might be a little more difficult but I'll
work
on it."

Samantha couldn't help herself, she started laughing.  She threw
herself back on the soft grass and laughed until the tears rolled
down her flushed cheeks.  It felt so good to laugh again, now if
only Fox would come home safe and sound.  She looked up
through her wet lashes to see Red Willie still standing hopefully
over her, that ludicrous white hat gripped tightly in his hands.

"Wherever did you get that hat, William?"

Willie looked down sheepishly, "Napoleon loaned it to me.  He
said Captain Skinner took it off a rich merchant from France. 
It's
supposed to be what all the most respectable gentleman are
wearing now."

"I see.  And tell me William, is it a hat that makes a man
respectable?  Or is it what's inside his heart?"

"What's inside my heart is you, Samantha, only you.  And just
because I grew up on the streets, well so did Fox, and everybody
thinks he's some kind of saint or something.  Mother Maggie says
that I come from good stock so you wouldn't have to worry about
our kids or anything.  I can change, Sammy, I know I can."

"Well I'll think about it, William.  Now come, we're due back at
the house for dinner.  And if you're a very good boy," she looked
up at him from under fluttering lashes.  "I'll let you walk me
up to
the vampire caves tonight."

"Ah, Sammy, you know there aren't any such thing as . . ."

* * *
Gentleman John watched through his spyglass as Captain Skinner
and Fox came back aboard the Chauve Terreur.  He was hidden in
a small cove under dense cover, he was sure none of the crew of
the other pirate ship had a clue the Severed Heart was so near.
He
looked around when he heard frantic mumbling coming from
behind him.  Scott Blevins lay on deck, bound from neck to toe by
thick, course rope, a huge gag in his painfully open mouth.

"Just shut up, Blevins!  You're the cause of all my trouble and
now
you're going to pay for it.  Captain Skinner wants you!  I've
decided to offer him what he wants in return for that cabin boy.
Surely Skinner must be tired of the brat by now.  In fact, if
he's
anything like his sister it's a wonder he hasn't thrown the
pretty to
the sharks already."

Another frantic grumble came from behind the gag.  Gentleman
John ignored his captive as he watched Skinner tie a rope around
the cabin boy's waist and then attach the end to his own belt. 
Now
that was odd.  He shrugged his shoulders, he supposed being
around one of the Mulder kids for an extended period of time
could make anyone act a little strangely.

Roche waited until the Chauve Terreur had weighed anchor and
began to sail before he followed suit.  He planned to overtake
the
other ship at sunrise tomorrow morning.

"Do you want me to put him down below, sir?"

Gentleman John turned to his new first mate, "No, Mr. Colton, I
want to look at him right where he is.  Prepare to weigh anchor."

"Yes, sir."  Tom Colton smiled as he turned to leave.  Gentleman
John Roche was going to make him a very rich man, and allow
him the even greater pleasure of exacting revenge against those
who had tried to ruin his life.  Revenge against Captain Skinner
and his whip and much more importantly, against that goody-
goody cabin boy of his.  He planned to make the captain watch
while he slowly tortured Fox.  That would no doubt be enough to
kill Skinner, too.  He hoped not, he'd like to spend a few hours
inflicting pain on the big, handsome captain before he died.

* * *
Reggie and Captain Skinner sat on deck, peacefully smoking their
pipes and watching the moonlight play on the slowly passing
water.  This was one of their favorite rituals while at sea
together,
and one they indulged in whenever possible.

"Good wind.  We should be home in a couple of days."  Skinner
smiled, thinking of his peaceful island and the cabin boy who
shared his home.

"What about Samantha?"  Reggie asked as he blew perfect smoke
rings into the night sky.

The smile faded from the captain's face.  "I don't know,
Reggie.  I
do know we can't just keep sailing around out here hoping to run
into the Severed Heart.  Maybe if we go back to the island, he'll
come to us.  I don't have a better plan right now."

"It's not a bad plan.  How are you going to protect Fox?"

"Well, strangely enough, Lucius has volunteered to act as Fox's
guard until this matter is settled."

"Sort of like letting the wolf into the chicken coop, don't you
think?"

"You don't trust Lucius?"

"With Fox's life, absolutely." Reggie chuckled as Skinner relaxed
a little.  "With his virtue, not in the least."

"You think Lucius would try to take advantage of my cabin boy?"

The look the older man bestowed on Skinner said it all.

"Yeah, I know," Skinner smiled back at Reggie.  "Fox is a good-
looking young man.  Who wouldn't want him?"

"Yes, he's beautiful," Reggie allowed.  "But that really isn't
his
appeal.  It's that damned <I'm-adorable-fuck-me> look he gets on
his face all the time.  Eyes wide and fathomless, his mouth
slightly
open while straight, white teeth nibble at that amazing bottom
lip
of his.  It's all an illusion of course.  When he gets that
blank look,
the next words out of his mouth are always shockingly brilliant.
But damn, while the boy is wearing that face, it's like he needs
nothing more than to be thrown over the nearest piece of
furniture."

Skinner chuckled.  "If anyone else said that about him, I'd kill
them."

"Maybe, but you'd still know it was true."

"Yes, I would."  There was silence for a long few minutes, then
Skinner finally spoke again.  "Reggie, in all the years I've
known
you, you've never once told me what you got out of making me
your cabin boy.  I mean I was just a little kid and even when I
got
older you never tried to well . . .you know.  We were never like
Fox and I.  Why did you do it?  Why did you save me?"

Reggie puffed on his pipe a few times.  "Do you remember the
first time I saw you, Walter?"

"I was crying."

"Yes, you were.  You were seven years old and sitting in front
of a
rat-infested hovel, and you were crying because your whole family
lay inside dead of the plague."

"I remember how they screamed, and I didn't know what to do so I
just kept giving them water.  Then one by one, the screaming
stopped.  When they were all quiet I went out and sat on the
steps
waiting to die myself."

"You didn't want to come with me.  I had to force you up onto my
horse, kicking and screaming like a wildcat."

"You looked so frightening.  So dark!  All I saw was black. 
Black
clothes, black boots, and to be honest I had never seen a black
man
before either.  And besides, I was sure the sickness would take
me
soon, and I wanted to be with my mother, sisters and little
Jamie."

"You've been trying to save your little brother ever since."

"If you're suggesting that I think of Fox as a little brother
then you
are very sadly mistaken, my friend."

Reggie smiled, "No, I wasn't referring to Fox.  Although I do
believe that first night when you rushed into the counting house
you merely intended to save yet another innocent.  I heard how
you
insisted on carrying him back to the ship yourself.  When did you
first fall in love with the boy, Walter."

"Blevins had beaten him and then he was going to let his friends
rape him.  I was furious.  I planned to have Fox taken back to
the
ship, then I was going to drop him at the first available port.
At
least that way he'd be away from that fat son-of-a-bitch
merchant.
But then as I looked down on him lying across that table, naked
and hurting, his eyes opened.  Just for a second, just one
flicker,
but they were green like summer grass and he looked straight into
my soul.  I felt my heart melt in my chest."

"It was similar for me.  You looked up at me with those dark
chocolate eyes of yours, and I knew I'd found the son I'd always
secretly wanted."

"We spent so much time in your cabin together, Reggie.  You
couldn't have shared your bed with another man after I came on
board.  Why did you do it?  At least with Fox after I get done
spanking his bottom, I get to love him to distraction."

"Which is part of his problem, by the way.  Spoiled rotten."

"You think so?  Do you know what he told me tonight?  That when
he was taken by Blevin's man he didn't fight because he had
always known that the life he had with me wouldn't have lasted
forever anyway.  It had been too good, more than he deserved.
Does that sound like a spoiled brat to you?"

"You told me the same thing once.  Remember?  We had docked
on a pirate island to pick up supplies, and I'd told you to
stay on
board because the place was much too dangerous for a little boy.
Of course you didn't listen.  I can't imagine what made me think
you would.  So sure enough, I turn around and see you slip around
the corner of  a building.  When I finally caught up with you,
you
said you knew I was going to throw you off the ship eventually
and
you thought it would be easier if you left on your own."

"I'd forgotten about that.  I couldn't sit down for a week after
that."

"I brought you back to my cabin and used my belt on you until
they could hear you singing clear up on deck.  It broke my heart
but I had to be sure you'd never again leave the ship without my
permission."

"It worked.  I never tried that again.  But I do remember
feeling the
need to run away.  My life on the farm had been hard.  My dad
drank too much before he finally took off for good.  Mom, my
sisters and I just couldn't get anything to grow, and Jamie was
just
a baby.  We never had enough to eat or enough coal for a warm
fire.  When you brought me to the ship, you fed me and gave me
warm clothing and you never asked for anything except a little
light work.  It didn't feel right.  I knew it couldn't last."

"So you and your bratty cabin boy are more alike than you think."

"No, I've never seen anyone as kind and generous as Fox.  The
whole time I had him sitting naked on my horse waiting for me to
come out of that damned inn, he was worried that I'd lose my
temper and hurt the very people who had been hurting him for
weeks.  And he isn't even aware that other people wouldn't feel
that way.  He thinks he's just an ordinary man who deserves
nothing special from life."

"And what about you, Walter, what do you deserve from life?"

"I'm the captain of a pirate ship, Reggie.  I probably deserve
nothing more than a good length of rope around my neck."

"Walter, remember when I said you try to rescue Jamie over and
over again.  I wasn't talking about Fox.  I was talking about
that
pathetic crew you've assembled and that motley group of free-
loading old pirates that live on your island, not to mention the
other dregs of society that have taken up residence there."

"My crew isn't pathetic!  We seize our share of rich merchant
ships.  The name of the Chauve Terreur is feared up and down the
shipping lanes.  I have a good crew."

"Yes, the Chauve Terreur has quiet a reputation thanks to the
nimble tongues of it's bragging crew and the genuine skill and
bravery of its captain.  And yes, you do collect a respectable
amount of treasure.  But it's also known that if a merchant ship
doesn't put up a fight,  it can sail happily away unscathed
from an
encounter with Captain Walter Skinner.  Sail away without a drop
of blood being shed, and a big, bad pirate crew waving bye-bye to
them while wishing them God's speed."

"That's not true, Reggie!  My crew can be cut-throat when they
need to be."

"Frohike?  Langly?  Your ever-dependable Mr. Byers?"

"Those are very specific exceptions.  Not everyone is cut out
to be
a cold-blooded killer.  And what other dregs of society live on
my
island?"

"Oh Walter, if you were any cuter I might still have to try to
get
you in my bed."

The captain let out an outraged gasp,  "I am not <cute>!  How
could you even suggest such a thing?"

"I can't imagine.  Why don't you go down and coddle your cabin
boy before I decide to warm your bottom for being so endearingly
naive.  I just hope the other pirates never find out what I know
about you."

"Naive!  Reggie, I don't much like the way this conversation is
going!"

"I doubt you do.  Too bad.  Now, go spoil the brat.  I want to
think
about this Gentleman John problem a little while longer."

"Humph!"  For a second, Reggie was sure Walter was going to
stomp his foot at him, just like he'd done so many years ago.  He
obviously thought better of it, possibly remembering the lesson
about foot-stomping he'd learned over Reggie's knee all those
same years past.

Walter had almost reached the galley stairs when he turned back
around.

"Reggie?"

"Yes, Walter."

"You won't tell Fox that I let the merchant ships go will you?"

"No Walter, I'll let your brat continue to think you're a blood-
thirsty demon of the seas."

"Uh . . .thanks."

Skinner could still hear Reggie chuckling when he reached his
cabin to shoo the ever vigilant Chester back to his own bunk so
he,
himself, could take over the coveted job of adoring Fox Mulder.

"You can come out now."  Reggie said.  "There's no one on this
side of the deck now."

"How did you know Duane Barry was here?"  The man crawled
carefully out of his hiding place by the dinghies.

"I think I get to ask the questions, young man.  Like who are
you?
Why did you follow us from that inn?  What are you planning?"

"Fox is Duane Barry's friend.  Duane Barry wants to protect him."

"Protect him from what?"

"Whatever tries to hurt him.  Fox saved me.  Mr. Mitchell hurt
Duane Barry real bad.  Fox took care of me.  He stole medicine
for
me and gave me his food while he went hungry.  Duane Barry
owes Fox his life."

Reggie shook his head in amazement.  Maybe that little brat
really
was an angel.  "I see.  So just because Fox was kind to you, you
followed him onto a pirate ship?  You're a very brave man."

Duane swallowed hard as he looked around nervously, "Fo . . .Fox
told me that Captain Skinner was different.  That not all pirates
hurt people."

"Do you really believe that, Mr. Barry?"

"I want to believe."

Mother Maggie fussed one more time with the hand-made lace that
served as the bride's headpiece.  "Oh, are you sure you want to
go
through with this, dear?  The man's a pirate."

"I love him, Maggie.  I can't remember ever being this happy. 
You
wouldn't want less for me would you?"

"Of course not.  Your happiness means the world to me, you know
that.  It's just that he's so . . .so . . ."

"Tall."

Maggie chuckled in spite of herself.  "Well yes, he is that."

"In his heart he's also a good and decent man.  What more could I
ask for in a husband?"

"But you've known him for such a short period of time.  Think of
the things he's done.  The places he's been."

"But he's here now and he truly loves me.  That's all that
counts."

"Shouldn't you at least wait until the Chauve Terreur returns? 
Fox
and that disreputable captain of his will be so disappointed to
have
missed your wedding."

"It will make little difference if I marry before or after they
return,
the result will be the same.  There will just be less
discussion and
fewer objections.  And besides, I don't want to wait."

"It's plain to see that you got a good dose of the
impetuousness that
clearly runs in the family."

"Come, Maggie.  It's time to go.  My future husband is waiting
for
me."

The groom stood nervously, tugging at the unfamiliar feel of the
Westcott around his throat.  He was sweating and chilled at the
same time.  So what if he loved the woman beyond all
distraction?  Was it really wise for a man of his background to
marry such a sweet, virtuous lady?  Maybe he could sneak out the
back door right now and save all of them from making a . . .


His breath caught in his throat, all thoughts of fleeing his
fate gone
instantly from his mind.  He'd never seen anything so lovely in
his
entire life.

As his sweet, smiling bride reached his side, the tall pirate
looked
down into sparkling blue eyes.  "I love you, Mary."

"As I do you, Clyde."

* * *
Frohike looked up from where he was stirring the huge pot of
stew.
He hated galley duty. He scowled at the man who had just walked
in the door.

"Not quite ready yet, kid.  Come back in an hour."

"Sure, Frohike.  Sorry."  Mulder turned to leave and ran straight
into the solid chest of his captain.

"Where do you think you're going?  I told you to get something to
eat."

"It isn't ready yet, sir.  I'll just come back a little later."

Frohike's eyes widened as the glowering captain trained those
deadly black eyes on him, while his right hand moved to lay on
the
hilt of the sword that he kept always at his side.

"Wh . . .what?"  Frohike managed to squeak as the big man
continued to advance on him.

"Are you refusing to feed my cabin boy?"

Frohike swallowed hard as he again noticed the sword was now
partially out of its sheath. "Uh . . .uh . . .uh . . ."

"Captain, you're scaring him."  Mulder placed a calming hand on
Skinner's sleeve.  "It's just not ready yet.  I'm not all that
hungry.
I'll just come back later."

"You'll eat now or I'll know the reason why.  I swore to myself
that
the next person who refused to feed you would feel the edge of my
sword and I never break my word."

"Shit!"  Frohike backed away toward the store room, "I didn't
realize the kid was hungry, sir.  I"ll . . .I'll find something
back
here.  I know we have some dried fish . . ."

Frohike stopped as Mulder scrunched up his face, shaking his head
frantically behind the captain's back.

"Oh wait, I forgot we used the last of that.  Let's see, how
about
some . . . cheese?"  Frohike said hesitantly as he glanced
askance
at Mulder who smiled and nodded his approval.  Frohike
sighed with relief.

Mulder looked up through his lashes at the captain who seemed
determined to monitor every bite that went into his mouth.  It
really was tasty, the bread freshly baked and the cheese tangy
but
Mulder was getting quite full.  He pushed the plate away,
watching
closely for a reaction from Skinner.  He noticed out of the
corner
of his eye that Frohike was doing the same thing.  Both men were
greatly relieved when the captain smiled at him.

"Okay now, Fox?"

"Yes, sir.  I'm fine, sir."

"Good.  I want to put some more ointment on your injuries, then
you can take a nap."

"A nap!  I don't want to take a nap. Langly said I could spend
some
time in the crow's . . ." Mulder sighed as the captain's scowl
became thunderous.  "Or not."

"Or not, indeed.  Come with me, young man."

Mulder rolled his eyes at Frohike, barely managing not to get
caught in the act, as the captain pulled him from the galley.

* * *
"You are pouting!"

Mulder looked over to where Chester stood laughing at him from
the cabin door.

"I <don't> pout."

The boy threw back his head, laughing even harder.  "Angels
shouldn't lie, Fox.  You would do well to follow the excellent
example of Chester Bonaparte," the boy thumped his own chest
proudly.  "Chester Bonaparte, he never lies."

"Yes and <he> is so very humble, too."  Mulder sulked.

"So why are you so disagreeable today, my angel.  Are you in
trouble with your captain again so soon?"

"As usual."

Chester shrugged his shoulders,  "He loves you.  This over
protectiveness, it is often the way of love, is it not?"

Mulder smiled, "I suppose."

"See, you can be as wise as Chester Bonaparte," the boy showed an
amazing display of white teeth as he smiled widely.  "Before he
died, my grandfather told me that you were very special and
that I should do everything in my power to ensure your
happiness."

"Your grandfather was far too appreciative for just a few
crusts of
moldy bread.  He shouldn't have extracted such a promise from
you."

"He knew that once he was gone, I would have nothing else to hold
me to that small town.  It is good that Chester Bonaparte is here
with you, is it not?"

"Yes, Chester, it's good.  But you probably should get out of
here
before the captain finds you.  He's ordered me to take a nap."

"It is all right.  He is busy on deck.  A ship has been spotted."

"A ship?"  Mulder sat straight up in the bed.  "Is it the Severed
Heart?"

"No.  It is merely a merchant ship."  Chester wondered around the
cabin, fingering the books and maps.  "Are you going to feed your
friend?"

Mulder looked at his curiously, "What?"

"Your friend who is stowed away on deck.  Duane Barry."

"Duane Barry is here?  On board this ship?  That can't be," 
Mulder
shook his head adamantly.  "He's afraid of pirates."

"He followed you here.  It seems he was more concerned for your
safety than for his own."

"Why would he do that?"

"You were kind to him, my angel, just as you were kind to my
grandfather.  But he needs more help from you now.  He has had
no food or water since he came on board.  Captain Purdue assumes
he is sneaking out at night but he is too frightened to do so. 
It is
time for you to take some to him.  He's concealing himself on
deck
by the dinghies where you usually go to try to hide from your
captain."

"I do not <hide> from my captain.  I go there to think."

"Yes, angel.  You go there to think about how to avoid your
captain."

Mulder's eyes narrowed at the boy.  He sighed when Chester just
continued to laugh at him.  He didn't understand why no one took
his dangerous looks seriously.

* * *
"Come on, Duane, you have to come out of here.  There's a storm
coming and it isn't safe to be up here."

"No."

"Duane, Captain Skinner isn't going to hurt you.  He's really a
sweet guy."

Barry chuckled, "He's going to have your ass for talking like
that,
Fox."

Without warning the ship was rocked as a mighty clap of thunder
rumbled around it.  "The storm must be right on top of us, Duane,
you have to come below with me now."

"Fox, I . . ."

Again the ship pitched violently as another deafening blast tore
through the air.  Mulder could hear the sound of backwash as it
hit
the deck.  The waves must be huge already.  Mulder became aware
of the sound of men shouting.

"That isn't thunder, that's cannon fire!"  Mulder scrambled for
the
opening in the canvas that sheltered their hideout.

The deck was alive with activity as the seamen prepared to board
the merchant ship that had come along side and was now almost
touching the side of the Chauve Terreur.  The smell of gun powder
was thick in the air.  It combined with the low, rain-heavy
clouds
to give an ominous, suffocating feel as the two huge ships hung
suspended in their own dark world.

"Duane, we're looting a merchant ship!  I gotta' get up to the
crow's nest so I can see the whole thing without the captain
sends
me back to his cabin."

"Fox, you can't do that!  You gotta' stay here where it's safe.
If you
go out there the pirates will capture you.  You don't want that
to
happen, Fox.  Listen to Duane Barry,  you really don't want to be
taken by the pirates.  They'll hurt you like they hurt Duane
Barry!"

"It'll be all right, Duane.  Why don't you go down to the
galley and
get something to eat.  You don't have to worry about the pirates,
Duane, I promise."

Duane tried to grab for Mulder's arm but the cabin boy was
through the canvas opening and out on deck before he could get a
good hold on him.  Duane started to crawl out of his makeshift
shelter.  He needed to tell that formidable pirate captain what
Fox
was doing but just as he moved,  a blinding  flash of lightening
illuminated the deck of the pirate ship.  To Duane's deluded
eyes,
the deck appeared awash with blood.  He screamed and scrambled
back to safety.

Mulder managed to climb the rigging of the swaying ship and
crawl safely into the crow's nest.  The view was everything
that he
had hoped it would be.  The angry sea billowed and crested
around them as the storm approached, while the pirates made short
work of relieving the crew of the merchant ship of their
treasure.

It was a little confusing though.  Captain Skinner had led the
cabin
boy to believe that he couldn't be involved in looting merchant
ships because it was a dangerous, bloody affair.  When in fact,
it
seemed to be a rather dull affair.  The pirates were holding the
crew of the merchant ship rather haphazardly at the end of their
swords while Captain Skinner and a man, who could only be the
captain of the merchant ship, seemed to be engaged in a friendly
conversation.  It was all most peculiar.

Mulder could see Robert Modell skulking around below.  He
seemed to be talking to one of the merchant ship's crewmen.  The
man nodded at Modell, took the sword that Modell offered, and
started toward where Captain Skinner's stood.

Mulder yelled a warning but there was too much commotion
below for anyone to hear him.  He started to leap over the edge
of
the crows nest, knowing he could never climb down quickly
enough to save his captain but also knowing he had to try.  He
threw one long leg over the basket, taking another quick look
below.  He stopped dead still, stunned to see that the man who
had
been sneaking up on Skinner now lay unconscious on the deck.

"What the . . ."

Mulder searched frantically, turning completely around in his
high
perch.  Modell was nowhere to be found.

As the last of the cargo of the looted ship was being loaded
aboard
the Chauve Terreur the skies opened up with a blinding downpour.
Mulder was almost knocked from his precarious perch by a sudden
gust of wind.  He grabbed on to the sides with white knuckles,
then
slowly lowered himself down into the basket pulling a whale-skin
rain slicker up over his head for protection.

Frohike waved at the departing ship only to get a sharp elbow to
his ribs from his captain.

"Stop that!"

"What did I do?"

"Don't wave at the ships after we've plundered them.  It's bad
form."

"I wasn't waving at the ship, captain.  I was waving at the
nice little
girl."

"Well, don't wave at her either.  Young girls should not be
sailing
the sea," Skinner placed his hands on his hips, spreading his
legs
wider for extra balance, as he watched the merchant ship
disappear
behind the quickly intensifying waves.  "It's bad luck."

Frohike didn't know what to say to that.  It had certainly been
bad
luck for the ship that had just lost its precious cargo but the
girl
had been adorable.  Just a few years younger than Fox and with
that same overly-curious attitude.  Frohike had been fascinated
by
her, she had such big blue eyes and pretty red hair.  She'd
been a
bit odd though.  She kept telling Frohike that some day she was
going to marry the boy who was standing in the sky.  Frohike had
looked to where she pointed but all that he had seen was the
empty
crow's nest.  Poor little thing.

"I'm going below to be sure Fox isn't frightened of the storm,
make
sure the ship is secure, Mr. Frohike."

"Yes, sir."

Thunder and lightening crashed around the little crow's nest as
the
cabin boy huddled in the bottom of the basket.  He really wasn't
getting all that wet thanks to the heavy slicker but it was still
terrifying.  He decided the best course of action would be to
climb
back down the wet rigging.  It would be treacherous but it was
also
the only way down.   And right now, he wanted down very badly.

Mulder carefully stood up in the bucking nest.  The main sail had
been lowered in preparation for the storm as had all the other
sails.
The masts now stood like swaying ghosts in the pouring rain.  The
cabin boy lifted one leg over the side, carefully using his
toes to
find his footing in the sodden, slippery ropes.  He lifted his
other
leg over the edge, breathing a small sigh of relief as he
balanced
both feet in the shuddering ropes.  Just as one hand left the
security
of the nest another sudden gust of wind lifted the cabin boy
backward.  He made a desperate, last-ditch grab for the rigging
but
it was too late.  He pitched backward and felt himself falling
and
falling . . .and falling.

Mulder's body landed hard, the air completely knocked out of his
lungs.  He lay gasping as the heavy rain beat down on his numb
body.  He had no idea where he now lay and furthermore, he was
afraid to open his eyes to find out.  If he had fallen to the
deck then
every bone in his body was no doubt broken and his captain would
find his battered corpse once the storm let up.  If he had hit
the
ocean, then he was already dead because he was almost certain he
wasn't under water.

Slowly as breath returned to his lungs, he opened his eyes to the
sight of . . .water!  Shit!  He must be dead because he was
floating
a few feet above the churning sea.  He could look down at this
feet
and see the angry waves as they lapped at his boots.

Taking a deep calming breath, fighting against the panic that
wanted to consume him, Mulder cautiously looked to either side.
The gangplank that had been used to board the merchant ship had
not been secured tightly enough to the deck, and had come loose
in
the storm.  It was now lodged precariously in a porthole halfway
down the side of the ship.   The rope that Skinner had tied
around
his cabin boy's waist, hoping to keep him within eyesight, had
wrapped around this sturdy board, and now Mulder was suspended
over the ocean several yards out and away from the safety of his
ship.

Mulder heard a scream just as a dark shape fell in front of
him.  He
tried to grab for the man, managing to hook the ends of his
fingers
in his coat, but it wasn't enough as Robert Modell continued his
wild flight into the sea.  The last Mulder saw of the man he had
grabbed onto a wooden barrel that had been blown overboard, and
was drifting away from the ship.

The lightening flashed without pause and the thunder all but
deafened the stranded cabin boy.  The storm was right over them
now, it was like being in the eye of hell.  Mulder tried to
yell for
help but the sound of the raging storm and the churning ocean
drowned out his voice before it could reach the few men left on
deck.

He panicked, kicking his feet wildly and screaming at the top of
his lungs.  The board suddenly dropped a couple of inches closer
to the turbulent water below.  Mulder grabbed for the gangplank,
wrapping his arms tightly around the rough wood.   He held
absolutely still, waiting to see if the board would give way and
plummet him to his death.

The cabin boy could feel the grit of salt in his stinging eyes.
He
looked down into the water, wondering if sharks came out looking
for cabin boy snacks during storms.  He didn't see any fins in
the
water.  Mr. Byers had told him that sharks could always be
recognized by their fins above the water.  Of course right now
even
the most experienced seaman wouldn't be able to see much of
anything in the foaming waves.

Mulder looked up again just in time to see a huge wave ready to
break over his head sending the board securing him to the ship
shuddering and bouncing.

Captains Skinner paced in a tight circle inside his cabin. 
"Where
could he be?"

Reggie put a calming hand on the anxious man's shoulder,  "We'll
find him.  Maybe you should go look in the ship's hole.  He
likes it
down there for some reason."

"Ghosts."  Skinner mumbled as he slammed the door behind him.
Purdue looked after him, shaking his head.  Since when did Walter
Skinner believe in ghosts?  It would seem the irksome little
cabin
boy was having a profound effect on Purdue's straight laced
prot‚g‚e.

Captain Purdue made his way up on deck, his head turned away
from the driving rain.  He pulled back the tarp just enough to
allow
himself to climb into Duane Barry's hiding place.  The man was
curled up in the smallest possible ball in one corner of his
small
space, his eyes huge in his pale face.   Dianne

"How you doin', Duane?"

"Duane Barry's all right," the man's voice quivered anxiously.

"You staying dry enough?"

"Yeah."

"Duane, do you know where I can find Fox?"

Duane looked up in alarm, "Did the pirates take him?"

"What pirates would that be, Duane?"

"Fox was in here trying to talk Duane Barry into going down below
with him but Duane Barry couldn't do that.  Not even for Fox.
Then we heard the cannons.  Duane Barry remembers the
cannons.  They hurt Duane Barry!"

"I know they did, Duane, I know.  Just calm down. Can you do that
for me, Duane, can you calm down?  I need you to tell me where
Fox went after you heard the cannon fire."

"Crow's nest."

"WHAT?"

Duane cringed back in his corner, eyes trained fearfully on the
shouting man.  "Don't hurt Duane Barry.  Duane Barry told Fox not
to go.  Really he did!"

"I'm sorry, Duane.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you. 
Just calm
down.  I just can't believe that boy is so foolish.  Walter is
going to
turn him every way but loose when he gets his hands on him."

"Please, don't hurt Fox.  Fox is Duane Barry's friend."

"I know, Duane.  I'll make sure Fox doesn't suffer too much for
his
poor judgement.  I've go to
go find him now.  Are you sure you're all right in here.  You
could
go stay in my cabin.  No one
would bother you there."

"No, Duane Barry will just wait here for Fox to come back."

Reggie nodded at the quaking man as he made his way back out on
deck.  If that boy was up in that crow's nest, Walter really
would
take a chunk out of his butt.  And well he should.  Reggie
looked up to the top of the main mast to where the crows nest was
swaying dangerously.

"Want me to go see if he's up there?"

Reggie turned around to see Lucius Hartwell standing beside him
on the bucking deck.  The man had amazing balance, he wasn't
even holding on to anything as the ship bucked under the
tremendous force of the storm.

"No Lucius, I'll do it.'

Lucius laid a hand on the other man's arm.  "You know why I'm the
right man for the job, Reggie.  If the captain's brat is still
up there
I'll find him."

Reggie shielded his eyes from the rain as he watched in awe as
Lucius shimmied up the wet ropes, completely unaffected by the
screaming wind and pouring rain.

When the vampire reached the crow's nest, he wasn't surprised to
find it empty.  He's known the kid wasn't still up there.  He
could
feel him somewhere close but not on the ship.  Lucius
looked around in confusion.  He looked down to be sure no one but
Reggie was watching him.  He wasn't ready to announce to the
whole crew that he had a few special powers up his sleeve.

Lucius slithered out of the nest, flattening himself against the
rigging.  He effortlessly slithered down and over the side of the
ship.  When he got about half way around he spotted Fox.
Somehow the damned kid had gotten himself tangled up in the
gangplank and a rope and who knew what else.

Mulder could feel the salt thick on his lips now as wave after
wave
washed over his battered body.  He shoulders were screaming but
he didn't dare let go of the board.  The rope around his waist
still
felt secure but he didn't feel comfortable trusting it like he
had at
the beginning.

He thought he heard a sound over by the ship but he couldn't open
his eyes, the salt water had formed a crusty shell over his
lashes.
Mulder felt a sob building deep in his chest.  He was going to
die
out here.  The sharks would find his drowned body, eat it, and
then
his captain wouldn't even know what had happened to him.
Mulder's breath caught, the captain might even think his cabin
boy
had escaped on the merchant ship they had met earlier today.  He
might think Fox had run away from him.  A single tear escaped his
eye to become lost in the water already covering his face.

Mulder gasped as his board bounced up and down several times.
He sucked in his breath, waiting to continue his fall into the
ocean
below.  He had always known he would end up as shark food
eventually.

"You don't need to worry about sharks, brat.  If I were you I'd
be
more concerned about your captain."

Mulder's head circled around.  The voice sounded so close, like
it
was inside his head.

"All right, pretty boy, hold on and don't say I never did
nothin' fer
ya'."

Mulder's breath caught in his throat as he felt himself being
lifted
up into the air.  He must be dead!  Only angels got to fly like
this.
He fought to open his swollen eyes but his lashes
were no match for their salt coating.  He felt his feet come down
on something solid.  Would heaven have oak plank floors?  And it
was raining here too, imagine that.  Suddenly his shoulders were
grabbed and he was bing shaken so hard his teeth were rattling
and
someone was yelling at him.  Who would have thought that God's
voice would sound just like Reggie Purdue?

"You listen to me, little boy, you are in real trouble this
time.  If
Walter doesn't give you the whipping you deserve, then you can
just count on me to do it for him!"

"Reggie, stop that," Lucius tried to take Mulder out of the angry
man's hands.  "Let's get him below and wash some of this salt off
his face, he doesn't even know who you are right now."

"Oh I bet he's got a pretty good idea," Reggie administered one
more hearty shake before he released the cabin boy to the care of
the vampire.

"I'll go find Walter.  Meet us in his cabin.  That is if you
can keep
that brat from sneaking
off before you get there."

"I think he's mad at me."  Mulder ventured after the big man had
walked away.

"Do you really think so, Fox?  All that beauty and brains too.
Captain Skinner is such a
fortunate man."

Mulder couldn't see Lucius' face but there was no mistaking the
sarcasm in that statement.  The cabin boy decided it might be
best
to just keep his mouth shut for a while.  His captain would have
been so proud.

Once in the warm safety of the captain's cabin, Mulder started to
shake.  He felt a soft cloth wiping over his face as Lucius
tried to
remove at least one layer of salty grime.

"Langly, get someone to bring the tub in here.  We need to get
Fox
cleaned up and warm before the captain sees him.  The man can be
a little overprotective at times."

"That's putting it mildly.  Be right back."

Mulder could hear the sounds of the tub being brought into the
cabin and filled with water.  The wet cloth was resting on his
eyes,
held firmly in place by Lucius' strong hand.

Reggie came pounding back into the cabin.  "Walter is on his way,
get him in that tub.  I don't even want to think what's going to
happen to that boy and it would be best if he was at least
warm and dry first."

Mulder shivered harder.  They were all actually afraid of what
the
captain was going to do to him.  Shit!

Once he had been unceremoniously stripped and was submerged
comfortably in the warm water, Mulder began to feel a little
better.
The caked salt was being washed from his body and at this point
he could care less who was doing the favor.

"HEY!"  It would appear the captain didn't share his cabin boy's
indifference about who was bathing him.  "What the hell do you
think you're doing?"

"I'm giving him a bath, captain," Lucius rolled his eyes, "and in
front of witness, so just calm down.  Fox is safe with me for the
moment."

"This time I have to agree, Walter,"  Reggie felt compelled to
add.
"That brat is probably safer with Lucius than he'll be with you
once you find out where we found him."

"Modell fell overboard."   Mulder whispered, hoping to change the
subject a little.  "He's lost at sea again."

"Damn," Lucius stopped his gentle administration with the wash
cloth on Mulder's body.  "I liked him."

"Yes, for lunch," Reggie snorted ignoring Captain Skinner's
puzzled look.

Lucius smirked, "The man had truly excellent taste.  I'll miss
him."

"Well I won't," Reggie declared as he glared at the dozing cabin
boy.  "Put that brat to bed before he drowns.  We'll deal with
him
later."

"But Reggie," Skinner watched longingly as a wet, naked Fox was
lifted from the tub, dried off and tucked into the big bed.  "I
want to . . ."

"I know what you want to do.  It'll have to wait.  We need to
go see
what else besides Modell was lost during this storm."

* * *
Mulder awakened some time later to the sound of someone
entering the cabin.  He slowly opened one eye to see both Captain
Skinner and Captain Purdue standing over his bed.  He snapped the
eye shut, hoping they would both go away.

"Forget it, little boy," Reggie snarled.  "You can go back to
sleep,
once your bottom is good and sore that is."

Mulder eyes snapped open as Reggie hooked his arm with a big
hand and pulled him from the bed.  He pushed him, nose first,
into
his corner.

He heard his captain walk up behind him, as hot lips touched
behind his ear.  "I have a present for you from the treasure we
just
captured, Fox." yes snapped open as Reggie hooked his arm with a
big hand and pulled him from the bed.  He pushed him, nose first,
into his

Mulder looked over his shoulder in trepidation.  He was fairly
certain that any gift given while he had his nose in his corner
could
only bode ill for his backside.

"A hairbrush, sir?"  Fox swallowed hard as he eyed the brush.  It
had a solid wood back, flat and hard.  Etched into the wood was a
beautiful, intricate design.  It was a fox resting on his
haunches,
his long, bushy tail fanned out behind him.

"Yes, a very special hairbrush.  It was freely given to me by a
little
red-haired girl who insisted I needed it more than she.  She
told me
that an old, gypsy fortune-teller had given it to her.  The
little lady
made it quite clear that it was for <the beautiful boy standing
in
the sky>.  I thought she was daft, poor little thing, until I
found out
that she had seen something I had not.  THAT YOU WERE IN
THAT DAMNED CROW'S NEST AGAIN!"

Mulder flinched as the volume of his captain's voice caused his
ears to ring.  He would have liked to ask more questions about
the
little girl but was distracted as he heard the ominous sound of
the
dreaded brush smacking against his captain's palm.

"It seems that young lady was quite right.  This hairbrush will
indeed come in very handy.  I'm going to use it to spank you
until
every man on deck is certain I'm committing murder down here,
then when my arm is too tired to strike again, I'm going to let
Reggie take over for me.  You'll be lucky if you can sit down by
Christmas, Fox."

"Please sir . . ."  Mulder was trembling from head to toe, tears
already filling his wide, hazel eyes.  He looked over his
shoulder at
his captain, bottom lip trembling unhappily, "I'm sorry, sir. 
Really
I am."

Skinner swallowed hard as he looked into those sad, pleading
eyes,
lost in their beauty.  He nearly jumped out of his skin when the
brush was snatched from his hand.  "Oh no you don't!"  Reggie
hissed, "Get over my knee, little boy."

Mulder turned his piteous eyes to Reggie.

"You can forget that!  I'm not so easily swayed after the trick
you
just pulled.  Climbing up into a crow's nest during a storm. 
You'll
be lucky if I leave an inch of skin on that backside of yours. 
Now
get over here, time is wasting."

Within seconds Mulder found himself upended over Captain
Reggie Purdue's lap.  He grabbed the legs of the chair with both
hands, hanging on tightly.  It was never a good idea to try to
protect your bottom when Reggie was the one wielding the paddle.

The first smack was so hard, Mulder could feel his skin blister.

"Shi-i-i-i-t!"

"I'd watch my language, little boy, unless you'd like to sample
the
taste of lye soap in your mouth.  It's an experience you won't
soon
forget."

The back of the solid wooden hairbrush came down over and over
again leaving bright red ovals with a white outline of the
intricate
designed carved in the back.  Fox had no time to breathe out
between strokes let alone cry out his distress.  He ended up just
lifting his head and howling to the ceiling.  One long continuous
keen of pain and humiliation.  If it effected Reggie, he gave no
sign, not stopping until the bare bottom and back of the thighs
had
turned a bright, blistered red.

He looked up at Skinner who was winching sympathetically as his
cabin boy kicked and cried so desperately.  "Do you want to
finish
up with this, Walter?"

The captain could only shake his head, his own eyes moist.
Reggie shook his head in exasperation.  "Of course you don't."

Reggie picked up the hairbrush, bringing it high over his right
shoulder.  "Twelve more, Fox.  I'd like to think we won't ever
have to do this again."

Mulder looked up over his shoulder, gasping as he saw his own
flaming red butt as it lay defenselessly in the path of that
raised
brush.  "Please Reggie, I've learned my lesson!"

"We'll just make sure, shall we," Reggie brought the brush down
with a resounding crack that echoed throughout the cabin.

"Ye-Ouch-h-h-h-h!  Too hard!"

"Regg-ie?"  Skinner's voice broke on the last syllable.

"Oh for heaven's sake!"  Reggie brought the brush down five more
times just as hard as the first.  Mulder kicked and screamed
for all
he was worth.  The captain lay the brush aside as he pulled
Mulder
up and pushed him none to graciously into his captain's waiting
arms.  Mulder put both hands behind him to rub frantically but oh
so gently on his flaming posterior.

"There, Walter!  All yours to love and spoil.  At least I made
sure
he won't be sitting comfortably any time soon."

Reggie took one more look at Captain Skinner whispering
soothingly into the ear of his prancing cabin boy.  He shook his
head in disgust as he slammed out of the cabin.

"I . . .I'm sorry . . .he . . .he's mad at you."

"Sh-h-h-h, don't cry anymore, my beauty.  You well deserve that
hot bottom but it's all over now."  He pulled Mulder back to look
into his tear soaked eyes, "However you're not getting any
soothing lotion rubbed on it for a good long while.  Now get your
hands away from your bottom and into the corner with you.
You're to be on full display until I tell you that you can move.
You need to think about how much your backside is stinging right
now and how much worse it will be if I ever catch you in that
crow's nest again.  You're just lucky I didn't whip you up on
deck."

The cabin boy sniffled miserably only to feel the captain
immediately at his side.  "Sh-h-h, it's a hard lesson but one you
have to learn."

"I . . .I was publicly whipped in London once."

The captain's eyes opened wide.  "You were?  What did you do to
warrant such a sentence, Fox.?"

Skinner knew it was a common practice for thieves and
pickpockets to be condemned to be publicly whipped.  He couldn't
imagine what his cabin boy could have done to warrant such a
harsh punishment?  "Did you get caught stealing more meat pies
for poor widow ladies?"  Skinner smiled as he stroked Fox's
trembling back.

"No.  Red Willie was one of the boys who lived on the street but
he didn't work in the woolen house.  He said that was for those
without enough brains to get money any other way.  He was sort of
a bully, you know?"

"A bully?  Did he ever hurt you, Fox?"

"A few times.  I fought back pretty well.  I wasn't as big as
him but
I kind of have a temper . . ."

"Really?"  The captain snorted sarcastically.  "I hadn't
noticed."

Mulder gave him a sour face, then turned back to the wall.  "This
one day Willie had stolen a whole jar of pig's feet and four
apples.
I wanted him to share with the smaller children but he wouldn't
hear of it.  The constable came by while we were arguing so we
didn't hear him coming.  There was no chance to run away like we
usually did.  I knew Willie had been caught stealing before. 
If you
were found guilty more than once you were sent to the tower, no
matter how old you were.  I'd heard tales of boys no older than
Willie dying in that horrible place.  I . . .I told the
constable it was
me who stole the food."

Skinner found himself shaking from head to foot.  "Oh Fox!  What
happened then?"

"I was taken before the magistrate.  It was a very short trial.
Since
it was my first offense I was sentenced to twenty-five lashes.
There were . . .were so many people there when I was brought out
and tied to the whipping post.  They were all calling me names
and
throwing things at me.  I was sixteen but they didn't believe me
when I told them that.  Sixteen was considered a man and I would
have received the lashes on my back.  Because they thought I was
younger they . . .they pulled my pants down and whipped my bare
backside and legs.  I'll never forget it."

"Undoubtedly.  Who took care of you afterward?"

Mulder looked at him curiously.  "Took care of me?  I took care
of
myself, of course.  I wasn't hurt that badly.  The constable was
good enough to bring me back in my alley.  I couldn't walk for a
day or two but then I went back to work at the woolen house.  The
owner was angry and wouldn't pay me for the whole week.  That
hurt more than anything.  I almost didn't have enough money to
pay for Samantha's boarding that month."

"And did you have enough money left for food for yourself?"

Mulder smiled through his tears, "Captain, you're always so
worried about food.  Before I met you, I didn't have much nor
did I
expect it.  It's easier to be hungry when that's all you've ever
known."

"I see.  So did things get better between you and Red Willie
after
that?"

"No.  He roughed me up the next week.  I was still kind of weak
and couldn't fight him off as well as usual.  He said I'd shamed
him by taking his place.  That he could take care of himself and
didn't need a little do-gooder like me to do it for him.  I
didn't
regret it though.  I knew he would have died in prison."

"So you traded yourself for a boy who didn't appreciate it in the
least?"

"That's hardly the point, sir."

"Then what is the point, Fox."

"I just want you to know that if you think I deserve public
punishment, I can take it and I won't hold it against you
later.  I
understand, captain."

Skinner turned Fox around and hugged him tightly.  "Come on,"
he told the bewildered cabin boy.  "I think you've stood here
long
enough, let's get some ointment on that bottom of yours."

A short while later Captain Skinner came up on deck to make
peace with his former captain.

"Reggie, I . . ."

"I know, Walter.  I take it he's asleep?"

"Yes, I made him stand in the corner.  You did a good job, his
backside was glowing like a lighthouse.  I don't think he'll
want to
make the acquaintance of  that hairbrush again any time soon."

"So what are you so unhappy about?"

"Every time I spank that boy it brings up some other horrendous
memory for him.  I don't know how much more I can stand.  He
thinks he had a perfectly normal childhood living on those
blasted
streets."

"Maybe he did.  Lots of boys grow up on their own.  He certainly
turned out all right."

"I can't argue with that.  He's a fine man."

"If a troublesome one."

"He's no trouble really," Skinner said magnanimously.

Reggie raised an eyebrow at him.  "Did you know he's been giving
his food to a stole-away that followed him on board?"

"WHAT?  When did . . .you knew about this?"

"Oh I knew the man was on board.  He followed Fox because the
boy showed him some kindness and he wanted to protect Fox from
the horrible pirates.  It seems the man was injured aboard
Captain
Tremaine's Black Honey ship when it went down a couple of years
ago."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Not that I can tell and he is totally loyal to Fox.  I thought
another
pair of eyes on that little boy might be well useful.  What I
didn't
expect was for the brat to decide that he had to share his own
rations verses asking for extra for the man."

"Jesus, Joseph and Mary!"  Skinner put both hands over his face,
"What am I going to do with him?"

* * *
Mulder tried to look around while keeping his nose firmly planted
on the main mast.  Captain Skinner had come below to drag him
from his bed only to deliver three hard smacks to the cabin boy's
already sore bottom.  Then he had been dragged up on deck, and
his nose planted firmly against the mast.  At least his
trousers had
been left in place for the moment.  Fox still wasn't sure which
of
his recent misdeeds had been discovered by the angry captain.

He forgot his vow to not call further attention to himself as he
heard the screams of panic coming from behind him.  He looked
around to see his captain pulling Duane Barry from his hiding
place.

Throwing caution to the wind, Mulder jumped down from the
bulkhead and ran to help his screaming friend.

"Captain, no!  You're scaring him!"  Mulder pulled the frantic
Duane from his captain's arms.  The man immediately huddled
against Mulder's chest.

"Don't take Duane Barry!  Don't take Duane Barry!   Don't take
Duane Barry!"

Mulder patted the trembling man's back as if he were the younger
of the two.  "Please sir, don't hurt him.  It's all my fault.  He
followed me here.  If anyone deserves to be punished for this, it
should be me."

"Fox, I'm not going to punish anyone for this, especially you.  I
won't abide stowaways on this ship.  I just want that man to come
out of hiding and do hid part of the work with the rest of the
crew.
And I most particularly," the captain looked pointedly at his
distressed cabin boy.  "Want him to have his own rations so that
you don't give him yours."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed!"  The captain lay one big hand on Duane's shoulder,
gently pulling him away from Fox.  "Now Mr. Barry, we are in
need of a new cook's helper.  I would like you to assume those
responsibilities until we reach our destination.  Is that
agreeable
with you?"

Duane looked at the captain for a long moment, he then turned to
where Mulder was nodding at him encouragingly.  "All . . .all
right, Duane Barry will help the cook."

"Good.  Mr. Langly will you please show Mr. Barry below.  Fox,
you can get your nose back against that mast.  I don't recall
giving
you permission to move."

"Yes, sir."  Mulder jumped back up on the bulkhead, giving Duane
one more smile before sticking his nose against the rough wooden
post.

What seemed a lifetime later to the bored cabin boy, he felt his
captain walk up behind him, looping a very familiar rope around
his waist.  "Come on, brat, time for a tour of the deck."

* * *
Reggie blew a perfect smoke ring up into the night sky.

"Want some company?"

"I thought you'd be busy entertaining the brat."

"Fox and Chester are attempting to get Duane calmed down for the
night.  He still throws up every time I get near him."

"Nice to know the Bald Terror still have what it takes to scare
the
pants off the peasants."

"Very funny, Reggie.  What were you thinking about up here by
yourself?"

"You."

"Oh please tell me you weren't reminiscing about tanning my hide
again."

Reggie chuckled, "Well that was a big part to your childhood,
Walter.  You were just as much trouble for me as your brat is for
you."

"If I didn't know better, Reggie, I'd think you were enjoying
watching me try to deal with that boy.  What brought on this
particular bout of fond memories?"

"The stowaway and watching Fox scramble up on that bulkhead
and put his nose against the mast.  I thought you were going to
wear a hole in that thing before you finally straightened out."

"Is my entire wayward youth going to be dragged out before me?
again this evening?"

"You're the one who brought that boy home with you.  It's not my
fault that he reminds me of you."

"It would be fine if your memories of me were triggered by  his
deep compassion, or that beautiful, brilliant mind of his or even
those devastating good looks, but no, they're always about his
astonishing skill at getting into trouble."

"Sorry, Walter, the way that it is, is the way that it is. 
Remember
the incident with that other stowaway?"

"Yes," Skinner groaned.  "I don't suppose we could just forget
about that?"

"Hardly!  It's not every day that a mere cabin boy decides to
save a
drunk from some street thugs, secrets him abroad his captain's
pirate ship, only to learn the next morning that he has
kidnaped the
commander of the King's Royal Guard."

"I <did not> kidnap him!"

"That's not what he said.  Mad as a hornet and twice as mean.  I
thought we'd never get him back on shore where he belonged.  At
least without getting the whole lot of us hanged for it."

"As I recall, he left calmly enough."

"Yes, after I allowed him to watch me strap you while you rode
that barrel on deck. I've never seen anybody get that thing
rocking
like you did that day.  I swear that barrel jumped a foot off
deck
every time you got a lick of leather on your bare butt."

"That strap damn well hurt!"

"I had to make it count.  When he was finally satisfied that you
had been properly punished, he went peacefully back to shore.  I
was worried they would come after us but I guess he wasn't
willing to admit to his commanding officer that he had gotten
dead
drunk and been captured by pirates.  That sort of thing probably
doesn't lead to a quick promotion."

"I suppose not.  I think that's all the story telling I can
take for one
night.  I'm going below to console my injured cabin boy.  Mean
old Captain Purdue set fire to his tail again today."

"Only because soft old Captain Skinner is too enamored of him to
do his duty."

"Not true.  But I must admit I do like you being the bad one
instead of me.  Makes the boy so appreciative of his own
captain."

Reggie snorted, "Always glad to help, Walter.  Go on with you, I
wouldn't want Fox to have delay in showing you the depth of his
gratitude."

Skinner gave a little bow, grinning from ear to ear.  "Nor
would I,
Captain Purdue."

* * *
Tom Colton was furious.  They had encountered a storm soon after
weighing anchor and it had blown them seriously off course.  It
would take them another night to catch up to the Chauve Terreur
or it's irritating cabin boy.

"How goes it, Mr. Colton?"

Tom looked around to see his arrogant captain standing behind
him, his eyes filled with suspicion.  "We should overtake the
Chauve Terreur by sunrise."


"That's excellent news, Mr. Colton.  Is Blevins still alive
down in
the hole?"

"Yes sir.  I had Hairless Pete take him bread and water this
morning.  He tells me the man should make it a few more days."

"Captain Skinner will be most pleased to welcome Mr. Blevins
aboard his ship, and I'm certain our Fox will also be overjoyed
to
see him once more as well.  The merchant should be most useful
in helping me reclaim my property."

"Your property, sir?"

"Blevins owes me a bounty.  I plan to claim the cabin boy in lieu
of gold."

Colton ground his teeth together.  Why did everybody always want
that damned cabin boy.  Of course, Roche wouldn't be the adoring
master that Skinner had turned out to be.  Maybe it would be fun
to watch Fox suffer under Gentleman John's heavy hand for a
little
while.  Then, of course, Tom would kill the both of them.

"I'll proceed with all possible haste, Gentleman John."

"You're a good man, Mr. Colton."

* * *
Captain Skinner ran a hand over the soft skin of his cabin boy's
long, sleek back.  He smiled as he heard a contented sigh.  The
young man under his caressing hands had come to mean more to
him than his own life, and he was most anxious to get him back to
the relative safety of their island fortress.

"What are you thinking about, Fox?"

"I was just wondering what I ever did to end up here with you. 
I
never expected to find this much happiness.  If I had Samantha
back, my life would be perfect.  It scares me."

The captain placed a soft kiss behind Fox's ear, his hand still
rubbing small circles on his back, "Scares you?  In what way?"

"It would hurt so much to lose this now.  To go back to the way
it
was before.  I've had so many people treat me kindly in my life
but
nothing like what you . . ."

"It seems to me that you're the one who has shown the most
kindness to his fellow man, Fox."

"No.  I've always wanted to help others but I had so little
myself
that it just wasn't possible to do much for anyone else.  I've
barely
kept my sister and myself alive all these years.  And . . .and
she
could be dead now for all I know."

"Your sister isn't dead, Fox.  I know it as surely as I know I
love
you.  As surely as I know you'll never be hurt by the loss of
that
love because I'll never let you go."

"I hope you're right about . . ."

The door slammed open so hard it knocked two books off the desk
that stood a few feet away.  The captain scrambled to pull the
blanket up over his naked cabin boy as he scowled at the man
standing in the doorway.

"I hope you have a good explanation for this intrusion, Mr.
Langly."

"Yes sir!  The Severed Heart approached under cover of fog and is
now only a few yards off our bow!"

Skinner scrambled from his bed, his feet hitting the floor just
as
the first cannon ball reached the deck above.  The ship rocked
under the impact, almost throwing the captain to the floor.

"You stay here, Fox!"

He turned to see his cabin boy just finish pulling on his
trousers.
He slammed the young man up against the wall, his considerable
height and weight pushing against the lesser body.  "Did you not
hear me, brat?  I ordered you to stay in this cabin!"

"I . . .I heard you, sir."

"Good!"  The captain turned as another blast sounded from above.
"Don't let me catch you on that deck!"

"You won't catch me, captain."  Mulder mumbled to the captain's
retreating back as he searched for the dagger Frohike had given
him.  Everything is the cabin was now lying on the floor and it
was
impossible to find anything.  Mulder almost sobbed in
frustration.
The ship was now taking a constant barrage of heavy cannon fire,
and Mulder wondered just how long the pirate ship could
withstand such abuse.

"Don't you go up on that deck, angel."

"Chester, get out of my way!  Did the captain send you down here?
I have to go up and watch his back!"

"It wasn't the captain who sent me.  Chester Bonaparte thinks
it is
too dangerous for angels today."

"Ches-ter."  Mulder warned as he tried to slip past the little
boy.

"Let him go, Chester."

"Chester Bonaparte thinks it is too dangerous, Stubby."

Mulder turned to see the ghostly seaman leaning against the
captain's desk, calmly smoking on that old teakwood pipe of his.
He turned back to his young companion.  "You can see Stubby?"

"Yes, Chester Bonaparte can see him.  Unfortunately."  Chester
frowned at the apparition.

"He'll be no good to anyone if the captain dies, Chester."

"Dies!"  Mulder scrambled around the surprised younger man, his
feet hardly touching the stairs as he bolted up to the deck.

A deck that was in chaos.  Large holes had been blasted into the
wooden sides surrounding the deck and water was pouring in as
the ship rocked and bucked under the attack.

The Chauve Terreur was returning fire but Mulder feared it would
be too little too late.  He ran to the railing closest to the
position of
the Severed Heart, shocked to see that the ship was almost upon
them and closing fast.  They would be boarded at any moment.
Fox knew that the first thing Gentleman John was likely to do was
seek out Captain Skinner and put a blade through his hear.

"Over my dead body!"  The cabin boy swore as jumped into the
sea below, his dagger held firmly between his teeth.  For once,
the
thought of sharks never crossed his mind.

He was a strong swimmer and it took him only minutes to make it
to the other ship.  He grabbed onto a dangling rope that had
fallen
from the deck above, and began to stealthily climb up the side of
the enemy ship.

John Byers lowered his spyglass, "They seem to have a man
overboard, sir."

Skinner grabbed the glass, training it on the desperate figure
that
was trying to climb back into the ship.  "Crazy fool!  He's
sure to
be hit by our next cannon ball if he doesn't . . .Shit!  Hold
your
fire!  Hold the cannon!  Hold your Fire!"

"Captain, have you gone mad?"  Byers made a grab for his agitated
captain.  "They're almost upon us!  Now isn't the time to
withdraw
our defense!"

"It's Fox!  That idiot over the side isn't just any idiot, it's
my cabin
boy.  Oh, please no.  I don't know . . . how did he . . .I'm
going
after him!"

The captain began to strip off his coat when he was stopped by a
strong arm on his shoulder.  He looked up to see Reggie Purdue
staring straight into his eyes.  "No, Walter.  Stubby told me
the boy
has a destiny to fulfill.  You have to leave him to it."

"Stubby?  Who the hell is Stubby, old man?  Let me go.  Fox is
climbing on board the Severed Heart!  He'll be killed!  I
have to . . ."

"You have to let the boy do this, Walter."

Mulder slipped over the side of the ship and into hell.  The
pirates
were in a murderous frenzy, all but slashing away at each other
in
their lust to spill the blood of the other crew.

The cabin boy slithered around the side of the ship, keeping his
back to the railing.  He ducked down behind some barrels of rum,
his attention caught by Gentleman John and Tom Colton arguing
fiercely.

"You play a dangerous game with me, Colton.  I'll stop at nothing
to get that cabin boy."

"I'm so sick of everyone wanting that damned cabin boy!"

Colton whisked a saber from his side but before he could bring it
to bear on the pirate captain, he stopped, clutching his belly,
a look
of total surprise on his face.  As he fell away, Gentleman John
pulled the smoking pistol from beneath his coat, the smile on his
face cold and evil.

"As I said, Tom, I'll stop at nothing to get what I deserve."

The Severed Heart was almost upon the other ship now, Fox could
see his captain plainly from where he was secreted behind the rum
barrels.  It was obvious from the expression on his face that his
captain knew exactly where his cabin boy had gotten off to this
time.

"How does he do that?"  Mulder whispered to himself as he
prepared to confront the most evil of pirate captains, a cold-
blooded murderer of men and black-hearted violator of children,
Gentleman John Roche.

Heavy gangplanks had now been thrown up between the two ships
and crewmen from both sides occupied the precarious perch, their
swords engaged in bloody battle.  The Chauve Terreur was listing
badly, have sustained much more damaged than the Severed Heart.
Mulder saw his captain trying to fight his way across the planks,
eager to get to his wayward cabin boy.

Mulder carefully concealed his dagger in the back of his pants,
then brought his arms out in front of his body in a sign of
submission as he approached the pirate captain from behind.

"Gentleman John."

The man turned with a start, his mouth dropping open in shock as
he saw just who was now standing on the deck of his ship.  "How
did you get here, boy?"

"I jumped over the ship and swam.  I want to give myself up to
you
in exchange for the safety of the Chauve Terreur."

Roche threw back his head and laughed madly.  "You are out of
your mind, boy.  No wonder Captain Skinner is so careless with
your safety."

"He isn't careless.  I'm sneaky."

"Not anymore you aren't.  You belong to me now, boy."  Roche
gabbed the cabin boy by his shoulders, his bony hands digging
into
the soft skin.  He pulled Mulder toward him and pasted his mouth
over the lush lips on his new treasure.

Mulder almost gagged as the captain's tongue worked its way into
his mouth.  He reached slowly behind him, grasping the dagger
and bringing it around to bury into the chest of man who would
dare to take him from his captain.

Gentleman John gasped in agony as the blade slipped easily into
his heart.  A spray of blood burst from his chest, hot drops
covering the cabin boy as he stumbled back away from the
mortally wounded man.

With his last breath Roche raised his pistol, aiming at the
retreating cabin boy.  He never felt the sword that severed him
neatly in half.

Mulder tripped over a loose rope, falling hard on his butt as the
pistol discharged where his head had just been.  He looked up and
into the eyes of his furious captain.

"I thought I told you to stay in the cabin!"

Before Mulder could come up with an appropriate answer, the
captain was attacked by one of Roche's crewmen.  The big man
turned and began to help his crew defeat their attackers.

The cabin boy scrambled around looking for the dagger he had
dropped.  He looked up just in time to see Mr. Blevins standing
in
front of him, his eyes filled with madness, a cutlass clutched
in his
hand.

"You!  This is all your fault.  I should never have bought you
from
that auction.  Pretty!  Too pretty for a counting house.  I
should
have known you'd be nothing but trouble.  My father-in-law tried
to warm me but I wouldn't listen.  All I could see was your
beauty
and I wanted you."

Blevins had been slowly advancing as he spoke, forcing the wide-
eyed cabin boy to retreat until he was backed up tight against
the
bulkhead.  Mulder tried to make a desperate dive to his left
but it
was too late, he felt the sword go deep into his body. Blevins'
insane laughter the last thing he heard.

Captain Skinner screamed, quickly dispatching his latest
adversary
as he saw Blevins advancing on Fox.  It took him only three steps
to reach his cabin boy but he wasn't quick enough.  He saw the
blade cut into Mulder's body as the young man crumpled to the
deck.  He was vaguely aware of Scott Blevins turning toward him,
sword lifted high, but one swift swipe of his own blade sent the
man's head rolling across the deck to fall into the bloody water
below.

The captain picked up his blood soaked cabin boy, moving like a
man in a dream.  He was stopped by Reggie Purdue's hand on his
shoulder.

"This way, Walter.  The Chauve Terreur has earned her rest at the
bottom of the sea.  This ship should last long enough to get us
back
to the island.  Let's go below and see if we can find somewhere
clean enough to lay Fox down."

Skinner nodded, his eyes glassy and unfocused.  "I think he's
already dead, Reggie."

Captain Purdue pried the cabin boy a little way out of his
captain's
arms, his long fingers going to the young man's throat.  He was
relieved to feel a strong pulse.

"One thing you need to learn about brats, Walter, they're near
impossible to get rid of.  Your boy is still alive and should
remain
so if you will allow us to go below to tend that wounds."

Skinner nodded again, a bit of color returning to his face.  He
meekly followed his former captain down the steps and into
Gentleman John's private cabin.

It was a subdued crew who watched the Chauve Terreur make its
final voyage to the bottom of the sea.  As was the captain's
order,
the entire surviving crew of the Severed Heart was loaded onto
dinghies and set adrift.  It would seem the captain's mercy had
drained away along with his cabin boy's blood.  Yet all agreed
that
the fate couldn't have befallen a more dastardly lot of men as
the
pirates sailing with Gentleman John Roche.

A thorough scrubbing and a few minor repairs were made to the
confiscated ship.  As long as they took their time and didn't
encounter any storms they should be able to limp back to Sauve
L'ile before the Severed Heart joined her sister ship in the
ocean's
depths.  It would be a slow, difficult voyage for both crew and
ship.

* * *
Captain Skinner sat by the side of his cabin boy through the long
night as pain and fever waged a war within the slender young
body.
The blade had entered just below the rib cage.  It was the
opinion of
the ships doctor, Daniel Pendrel, that there had been no damage
to
internal organs.  Skinner prayed that the young doctor was
correct
in his assessment.

"Mr. Wiggins, you have to get up now!  The dead wagon is coming!
You have to get up, please!"  Mulder sobbed deep in his chest,
tears
streaming down his face.  "They'll take you away and I'll be all
alone."

"Sh-h-h-h, Fox.  Don't cry, my love.  You'll never be alone
again, I
promise."

Mulder opened glassy, fever-bright eyes, "I had to give Red
Willie
the last of my bread.  He hadn't eaten for such a long time, I
was
worried about him."

"That's good, Fox," Skinner tried to keep his voice soft around
the
lump in his throat.

"I wish Willie wouldn't hit me so hard.  It makes it so hard to
lift
the heavy bundles of wool when my ribs are so sore."

"I . . .I know, sweetheart.  He won't hit you anymore.  You
need to
get some rest now."

"Lucy died today."

That stopped Skinner in mid breath, "Fox, this is all a dream. 
None
of this is real.  You need to get some sleep now."

"They found her body in the snow."  Skinner took a wet cloth,
wiping the sweat and tears from his cabin boy's flushed face. 
"She
was the same age as Samantha.  I wish I could have put her in the
orphanage too.  I work as many hours as I can but I just can't
earn
enough money for two and I won't steal like Red Willie.  I don't
blame him though.  I tried to find someone to take Lucy in but
she
was so little, they all thought she wouldn't be able to work
but I
think she would have done fine."

"I'm sure she would have been a good worker, Fox.  Please, it
wasn't your fault, sweetheart.  You did all you could."

"I tried," a heart-wrenching sob broke loose once more.  "I
tried to
take care of her but she died while I was at the woolen house. 
She
got too cold in the alley."

Skinner carefully lay down beside Fox, taking him into his arms.
"Just sleep now, Fox.  I'm here with you."

They both dozed for short time before Skinner was once again
awakened as Fox sat straight up in bed.  Skinner gently untangled
himself from the broiling hot man, bringing a bowl cool water to
bath his face and body. As he gently pulled at the blankets, the
cabin boy began to struggle.

"No!  Don't take my cloths off.  There are so many people here!
Please don't . . .get away from me.  I'm not an animal to be
sold at
auction like this!  Stop!"

The captain couldn't contain his own tears as he watched his
cabin
boy relive the indentured servant auction that had placed him
in the
hands of Blevins.  The fat merchant hadn't been content to just
buy
the poor boy, he had insisted that Fox be stripped for inspection
first.  Skinner wished he could kill the vile man all over again.

When Fox was once again calmed and dozing, the captain lay his
head on the bed, his hand firmly gripping Mulder's.

"Walter, you've got to get some sleep.  You can't keep sitting
here
day after day like this."

It had been three days since they had been attacked by the
Severed
Heart.  Three days of deliriously high fever for the cabin boy
and
constant worry for his captain.

"I can't leave him, Reggie.  He's reliving his whole damned
miserable life.  He needs me here with him."

Reggie sighed heavily but left to have Duane Barry bring a tray
of
food for the stubborn pirate captain.

"Will Fox be all right, Captain Skinner?"

The captain turned to where the timid man stood in the doorway
bearing his heavily laden tray.  "I think he will, Duane, if we
could
just get this fever to break."

The captain's eyebrows rose on his head as Duane practically
threw
down the tray as he bolted out the door.

"What the hell did I say to scare that boy this time?"  The
captain
shook his head in exasperation as he once more lay it down by his
cabin boy's smoldering body.

He was awaked a few minutes later by an insistent tug on his
sleeve.

"Wake up, sir.  Duane Barry has something to help Fox.  Please
you
have to wake up now."

Skinner lifted his head groggily, "What is it, Duane?  Has
something happened?"

"Duane Barry brought medicine for Fox.  Duane Barry used this on
the horses lots of time.  It's good medicine.  It will help Fox."

The captain looked at the items the man held in his hands.  A tin
containing a vile smelling slave and a small bag of dried leaves.

"What is this stuff, Duane?"

"Medicine.  For Fox."

Skinner looked up, ready to tell the man he couldn't chance using
an unknown treatment on his precious cabin boy, when he saw the
look in Duane Barry's eyes.  The man believed whole heartedly in
these remedies.  Skinner sighed.  What was there to lose.  If
something didn't change soon he was going to lose Fox.

"All right, Duane.  What do I need to do?"

Duane smiled broadly as he ran from the room to get what they
would need.  He came back with a stack of clean linens and a
pot of
boiling water which he placed over the open flame of the lamp.
Duane then proceeded to carefully crush some of the dried leaves
into another bowl with some of  the water until they made a
thick,
pungent paste.  This he spread a layer of the hot mixture onto a
piece of the linen.

"You'd best hold Fox down, Captain Skinner.  He won't like Duane
Barry's treatment none but it will make him better."

Skinner swallowed hard as he crawled in behind his limp cabin
boy,
situating Fox between his spread legs and wrapping his arms
tightly
around the slender body, the young man silky hair resting under
his
chin.

He nodded at Duane.  As the man slapped the steaming poultice on
the wound Mulder nearly came off the bed, captain or no captain.
Skinner held on tight, tears forming in his eyes as Fox cried
out in
agony.

"Duane are you sure about this?"

"Duane Barry's sure, sir.  Just hold him tight.  It will be
better
soon."

For the next hour, the minute one poultice cooled another was put
on the wound to take its place.  At first, Mulder screamed with
each
new application, fighting the loving hands that held him so
tightly.
As the treatment continued, and exhaustion overcame him, Mulder
would merely flinch at each new application, having little
strength
left to voice his distress.

"That should do it."  Duane finally proclaimed.  Captain Skinner
felt as thought he would cry with relief.  Duane smeared some of
his salve on the red, raw area, bandaging it tightly.

Duane pulled a small bag from his pocket, mixing the white powder
in a cup of water.  "He won't like this much.  It's willow bark.
Good for fever but has a bitter taste."

Skinner tightened his hold but the cabin boy was so worn out by
this point, he meekly allowed the evil brew to be poured down his
throat.  Skinner smiled his gratitude as Duane quietly left the
cabin.

The captain didn't even bother to move.  He just settled his
cabin
boy more securely against his chest, both of them asleep in
minutes.
He woke sometime later to find himself drenched in perspiration.

"Frohike!"

The little man came running, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"What is it, sir?  Has something happened to Fox?"

"No!  The fever's broken.  Help me get him cleaned up and back in
bed."  The captain couldn't contain the happy tears that ran
freely
down his face.  "I think he's going to be all right now, Melvin."

"I think you're right, sir."  Frohike smiled widely as he dug
in the
sea chest for clean bedding and clothing for the two men.

* * *
"I don't wanna' stay in bed!  You've made me stay in this old bed
for weeks! I wanna' climb up in the crow's nest so I can see the
island first."

Skinner ran a hand over his face, "The only thing you're going to
see is the rug on the floor while you're laying over my knee,
brat."

"You said you wouldn't spank me cause I've been sick," Mulder
pouted, batting long, dark lashes at his exasperated captain.

"Well I certainly didn't make any such foolish promises."

Mulder's eyes widened as he glanced up at Reggie Purdue where he
stood glaring at him from the open cabin door.

"You want to test me, little boy?"

"Uh . . .no, sir."

"That's what I thought."

Suddenly a loud shout drifted from above, "Land ho!"

Mulder started to sit up in bed, only to be pushed back down by a
firm hand in the middle of his chest.  "I said no!"

"But . . .we're home!"  Mulder pleaded as tears formed in his
wide,
hazel eyes.

"Shit!"  Skinner snarled as he wrapped Fox in a blanket and
lifted
him up into his arms.  "You're going to be the death of me, boy."

"Put me down!  I can walk by myself!  I'm a grown man of twenty-
three and I'm perfectly capable of . . ."

"Spoiled rotten," Reggie proclaimed, a smile tugging at the
corners
of his mouth as the three of them left the captain's cabin.

It took only a few minutes for Captain Skinner to make it up to
the
deck with his mutinous bundle.  "Hold still, brat, before you
cause
me to drop you.  And I don't want to hear one word about that
crow's nest.  Just be happy you're up here on deck."

When they reached the rail at the bow of the ship, Skinner placed
his cabin boy on his feet.  He smiled as Fox leaned his head
back,
enjoying the feel of the sun on his face and the wind through his
hair.

"Will they recognize the ship?  Will they think we're the Severed
Heart?"

"No, brat," Skinner pointed up to where his flag flew from the
top
mast.  "They'll know we're home."

"Home."  Mulder sighed.

"Yes, my love," his captain agreed.  "Home at last."

The End Chapter 9

END 4/4