Worse than being a foot soldier, the man was arrogant and grinning, not the least bit afraid of the Arch Imp. Kennedy grew furious when taken lightly. He threatened the man with a good flogging. He looked for any sign of fright. There was no fear in the man at all.

In its place, Archie found a mocking humor that infuriated him. He was so put out by the behavior that he untied the man as he stripped him of his clothing. The Arch Imp never had a chance.

In a blurring flash of tiger-like muscles, the handsome blonde sergeant had the golden imp pinned against the bulkhead. The sergeant’s big forearm pressed against the smaller man’s throat and his other hand dove swiftly between Archie’s legs. The lithe redcoat gave his prisoner a moment to realize how he’d been trapped. Then, the soldier smiled, grinned actually, the right corner of his mouth rising higher than the left. Then, his big hand began to squeeze the heavy sack of treasure he’d seized.

Archie gasped. He couldn’t get away. The level of pain was rising, yet he knew it would be worse if he fought harder. He could feel himself growing warm. The man’s breath was in his face. His lips, in a snarl, looked amazingly luscious. The helplessness was infuriating and terrifying. The pain was excruciatingly exciting.

Never in his life had Archie lost control. He had always been the aggressor, whether it was with Jack, with the other mids, or even with Whoratio who submitted with pliant ease to everyone who wanted him. Now, this handsome redcoat had the Arch Imp by his balls and it hurt. It hurt his pride more than anything.

"Is this wa’ yer wanted?" Mellors crooned in Archie’s ear.

A gasp escaped his mouth rather than words as the redcoat squeezed harder yet.

Whoratio was up on deck, fuming with rage that the captain was chasing a creature in a skirt around his cabin while Archie enjoyed the perfect body of the redcoat sergeant. In sympathy of his impotent frustration, the wind died completely, leaving the Relentless becalmed. At this capricious natural phenomena, Whoratio ordered the sails furled, and the Relentless drifted on a smooth sea under a warm sun.

"Lower a boat!" Whoratio ordered. "I want to inspect the paintwork around the stern windows." He really wanted to see what was going on inside the Gunroom where he guessed Archie had his prisoner under the lash.

When Horatio peered into the spacious cabin, he glimpsed a very different sight. Archie was pinned against the bulkhead, his legs wrapped around the Redcoat’s narrow waist, his bare feet kicking at the tightly clenched buttocks of the soldier as he was being raped.

Whoratio was stunned to see Archie’s face a mask of unfeigned agony. Tears streamed down his cheeks. The soldier’s teeth were fastened deeply into the Imp’s white throat. Aghast, Whoratio calculated the power in the soldier’s heavy thrusts that slammed Archie’s body repeatedly against the ship’s oak timbers. A wave of pure green jealousy washed over Whoratio.

Oh how he wanted to take his shipmate's place and receive the wicked soldier's full broadside.

Smashing in the window with an oar, Whoratio roared as he climbed over broken glass to reach his shipmate. The redcoat turned, allowed his first victim to slip to the deck while he snarled and faced his new opponent with a waving saber of moist, hard flesh, ready to impale his adversary. Whoratio checked his rush only long enough to scatter his clothing.

He leaped at the soldier and bore him back, down to the very deck next to the Arch Imp. He impaled himself upon the uplifted sword and screamed as it tore into him.

"Take me!" Whoratio shouted. "Not Archie, take me instead."

Mellors was reeling. The wind had spilled from his sails at the violent moment. Whoratio had taken him flat aback. With a mounting sense of horror, the soldier understood he’d been dismasted by the furiously jealous lieutenant who pummeled him relentlessly in the hope he’d fish his mast again.

"Quarter, sir," Mellors wheezed. "An’,ye’ll ‘ave my parole as soon as I were to catch me breath. I promise yer, I’ll coome again if ye’ lay off an’ give me a moment’s peace."

Archie dragged Whoratio off the wounded soldier.

"How dare you interfere," he shouted. "Go back to the Captain! The sergeant is mine."

"Why you little ungrateful wretch!" stammered Whoratio. "I walked on glass to come to your rescue and this is the thanks I get?"

"What?" Let me see your foot. Heavens! You’re bleeding, Whoratio. You do know what this means. Don’t you? You performed a selfless act for the good of a friend! How will you maintain your standing as an officer of the Relentless?"

From the floor between them, Mellors spoke up. He asked Kennedy, "Moost ‘e be poonished, sir?

Archie nodded and replied, "He moo, I mean, he must be severely punished, Sergeant. Care to assist me?"

"Jus’ point the way, sir."

Kennedy rubbed his jaw and sized up their victim. Then he said to Mellors, "You take his southern approach. I’ll fire down his mouth. Agreed?"

"Oh aye, sir. I’m oop for it. On the coount ‘a three!"

Whoratio barely struggled as they lifted him to his hands and feet. Mellors positioned his ram behind the snowy hills of his citadel while the Arch Imp drove his heated long nine straight down his throat, past wickedly sharp teeth. Agonizing minutes of stretching went by marked by whimpers and groans. Then, furious pumping as if to save the ship. At last, the Sergeant and the Arch Imp filled Whoratio’s hold so full that a thick white stream burst from him and pooled beneath their knees. They collapsed in an exhausted heap.

From the skylight above, Captain Pellew and his guest the Earl of Edrington watched. They sipped their brandy and nodded at particularly clever moves by their men. Then, as the sun set on another day, the wind rose like the Captain’s passions and the Relentless pitched and bucked through another stormy night.