Page 35 of A Flash of Golden Fire

I supposed with my stockings and boots on I’d look more civilized. The fabric of the breeches and the shirt was finer than any I’d had against my skin, and the fact that Captain Martin had arranged these to be provided made me go a bit soft in the chest.

I ate a roll and a slice of mango off the captain’s breakfast plate, then stepped out of the cabin and closed the door behind me.

“And where might you be going, Mr White?” Boone asked.

The captain’s guard was again cleaning under his nails with the knife. I wondered how he kept getting his hands so dirty when all I’d ever seen him do was sit in that chair.

“The head, actually. I need to piss and see if Captain Martin left anything up my—oh, never mind.”

Boone looked satisfyingly shocked, but then the corners of his lips twitched.

“Fine. Although you’re probably allowed access to the privy now. As a perk of being the captain’s—” He looked me up and down. “—favourite.”

The privy?My eyes went wide.

“You serious?”

“By my mother’s left tit, I am.”

I grinned and started to walk away, then stopped. “Um. Where is it?”

He gestured down a short hallway to the left of where we were standing.

“In the lower gallery. Down those steps. With a door marked “Privy”. Can you read, Simon White?”

“I can read.” I could read well, as a matter of fact. My mother had had a small library of books, before my father had destroyed them in a fit of pique. I’d never forgiven him for that transgression.

“Off you go then, Simon White. Don’t get lost.”

I gave him a nod and headed in the direction he’d indicated. I located the gentlemen’s privy down three short steps, around a turn, and down three more, nestled in a corner of the quarter gallery, near another door marked “Wardroom”. I didn’t know what the wardroom was for, but the privy was what I needed, at any rate.

I pulled the latch and opened the wooden door, then stood there for a moment, gazing upon Shangri-La. Compared to the heads at the bow, this was a significant upgrade, and I couldn’t believe my luck in gaining such privileges. Perhaps even worth having to do a bit of upkeep in the captain’s quarters.

The privy was much cleaner than the head, for one thing, and enclosed so nobody could watch me shitting out the spunk and soap from an entertaining evening with the captain. The experience proved quite relaxing, as a matter of fact. I’d never taken a lovelier shit in my fucking life. I completely forgot about the chickens and stayed there for longer than required.

Then someone knocked on the door, and I remembered there were other people on board.

“Just a moment,” I said, glancing about for a rag or paper to use to clean up. Someone had piled some pages from an old book on a small shelf nearby, so I used some of those. There was a bowl of water even, to wash hands, along with—gulp—a lovely bar of soap like the one I’d become quite familiar with in the captain’s chambers. I’d never gotten hard from looking at a bar of soap before, but that’s what happened. I willed my cock to behave, pulled up my breeches, and got myself to rights.

I pulled open the door to see Mr Guthrie, the ship’s cook, waiting there. His eyes went wide when he saw me.

“I beg your pardon, sir. It’s all yours,” I said.

Mr Guthrie looked me up and down with a puzzled expression on his face. “Who the hell are you?”

“Simon White. I used to look after the goats.”

His eyes went wider. “What are you doing here? This privy is for the officers and the captain.”

He sounded genuinely confused and not enraged about my presence.

“Well, I’m the captain’s houseboy now. So I’m allowed to use the privy.”

Understanding dawned as Mr Guthrie looked me over again.

“Ah. He’s got you kitted out well, I see. Well, mind that you treat him with kindness, Simon White. We’re all quite fond of the captain.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr Guthrie. So ’m I.”

---