Warrior Women Island

*** NOTE: This episode assumes the reader has previously read Episodes 01, 02, & 03 ***

The early dawn brought many pleasures on the island. First Miller was already awake and preparing breakfast for us -- the usual assortment of fruits and vegetables that were in season. She served them on a large plant leaf -- the jungle method of paper plates.

"More love, Jackson." She placed her right hand over her heat.

"More love to you, First Miller." I placed my hand over mine as well.

We were at the stage of speaking the words rather than the more formal forehead and nose rubbing sign language of love by now. I also knew that the next question after breakfast would be ...

"More sex, Jackson?" Her smile was all the invitation I would need.

"More sex, First Miller."

Within a flash, she was on top of me. She tossed my food leaf over on the ground, pushed me flat back on the mat, and quickly began humming happily and hungrily on the head of my cock. As soon as she was satisfied it was stiff enough to her liking, it was straight to our morning jungle rodeo with her on top, naturally. She became my only addiction. That was their way of maintaining control over their men -- or so she had been taught. I remember Joyce, my junior year at university tried to corral me that way. It wasn't love. She just knew of my father's many business interests. My connection with First Miller had evolved beyond that.

Yesterday afternoon, I had by happen chance met First Miller's father, Marcus. It was another secret I had to hold onto. He was pent-up behind a bamboo barricade with the other males who had been neutered either physically or by disease or illness. When Elder First Smith first told me they were forbidden to mate, she conveniently left out the part about how they had become forbidden. Since I now knew the women are cannibalistic, I imagined that part of their culture and rituals was to eat the testicles of those men they once loved or to acquire their traits and powers. That's probably why Elder First Smith collected my seed in a bowl while I was with Eleventh and Twelfth yesterday afternoon. She was drinking my power to make her stronger in the eyes of her villagers or so her rituals made her believe. Under ordinary circumstances, I'd be honored, but I was only being used.

Marcus Miller was right about another thing. I was never aware of any other animals on the island. It hadn't noticed it was strangely silent there. One becomes accustomed to a certain kind of silence at sea. He brought that to my attention. I admit, it should have been obvious. Although the women carried sharpened spears, they never seemed to go hunting for wild boar, birds, monkeys or anything and yet they had meat. In the beginning when they served meat to me, it tasted like pork but had a harsh, bitter aftertaste. I chalked it up to their cooking spice pallet. I was relieved when First Miller quit serving it to me. It was disgusting. She obviously knew what I did not -- its original source. It also made sense that they never let the men go fishing along the beach for food. Knowing the eventual fate that awaited them, they would in some fashion by any means necessary try to escape. If the women were to survive, they had only one known source of protein.

It also made sense as to why there were no other elders and why they died so young. Leaders were revered among the women. When they died in childbirth, by accidental means, or illness, their bodies were consumed in rituals so that the women could make them a part of themselves and keep their spirits within themselves. I'd read about this in an anthropology course at the university. The idea has several historical precedents. The subject came up in discussions that the human mind can invent almost any reason to justify their actions or belief systems.

I didn't know it at the time, but it was the best thing I could have done for these women by bringing back vitamins and food supplements with protein. They only knew that they loved the chocolate flavor. A good T-bone steak would knock their socks off -- if they wore socks. They seemed to be such lovely people doing their best to survive. They knew no other way. This reminded me that I had given one of the male prisoners a survival knife to help them escape by cutting through the bindings of the bamboo barricades. I had no idea when Marcus Miller and his friends would make their move to escape. I assumed it would be under the cover of night -- probably late, when the guards might be sleepy. I also knew it would be sooner rather than later. I still had many cases of goods on the Hornblower. If these men were to be rescued, I had to make room for them on the boat.

I used the day to transfer much of the goods from the boat to just underneath the vegetation line along the beach. That way, the boxes would be partially protected from the weather. I found another box of several survival knives. I hid that in the bow except for one I replaced for myself and stuck in the waist tie of my shorts. I closed and locked the hatch when the boat was ready. I checked the fuel gauge. The starting battery was near full charge. I had to hope that when we were ready to leave, it would be high tide and that the engine would start right away.

I brought back another case of pre-natal vitamins for the women. We were starting the case for the second trimester now. I also brought another case of nutrition supplements. I'd been gone a while and needed an excuse for being gone from the village so long. I simply took my time walking back from the beach. I stacked the two boxes outside of Elder First Smith's hut. It seemed odd. The village seemed empty. I slowly ran to my hut. Where was First Miller?!

This wasn't an abnormal situation. It had happened before, but since I now knew what I knew about these people, I became suspicious. I also wondered if someone was watching me for reactions. I played it as calmly as could. I'd been working hard unloading the boat, so I decided I needed a bath. I took a casual walk down the pathway toward the waterfalls and the hot tub for a good soak. As I got closer, I could see that the tub was occupied. I'd have to get closer. Soon, she recognized me and stood up, threw her arms out and yelled, "Jackson!"

I ran to her, climbed the three steps and got into the tub with her. She was quick to throw her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my waist. I hugged her, smiling too, while with a watchful eye surveyed the area behind her. Still smiling, she placed her forehead to mine and we rubbed noses, but we didn't kiss. She kept the customary greeting outside of our hut, not the one we devised ourselves. I wondered if we were being watched.

"More sex, Jackson?"

"More bath, First Miller."

"More bath?" I didn't need to show her what she already knew, but only the word was new to her. I used their devised soap and rubbed her back and shoulders with it. "Bath", I said out loud. Then she massaged my skin with the soap and said, "Bath". Then she added, "More bath?"

She was catching on. I had to come up with a definition. So, I let her wash me as I washed her at the same time with special attention to our sexy parts. "More bath."

She smiled widely. She liked the idea of more bath. We took our time. I added a lot of extra massage elements, rubbed slower and got her to close her eyes the better to enjoy the experience and not rush through it. There was no one else around. We took full advantage. She rubbed my cock under the water. Of course, my cock reacted almost instantly to her special touch. She smiled before she whispered in my ear. "More sex, Jackson?"

I couldn't think of a single reason why not. This would only be the second time today. Pregnant women get so horny, I guess. We flailed and splashed, and I finally finished deep inside her. Her legs tightened around my waist, and she held them there hugging me tightly.

Our clothes and our bodies were almost dry by the time we got back to our hut. I laid her back on our mat and opened the jar of floral scented enzyme crème for her tummy and breasts. I made sure to take my time applying a smooth, thick layer on her tummy. I rubbed it well into her skin. I tried not to stimulate her breasts. She was becoming more sensitive, so I lathered the lotion on while avoiding her nipples. She was nearly asleep since it was past our nap time, but she still had the strength to say, ...

"More love, Jackson."

I replied, "More love for baby too, First Miller." I put the lid on the jar and lay down beside her, threw my arm over her waist, and fell asleep.

We woke up to a loud commotion in the village. The women had captured a man outside of the barricade. He was shaking and trembling uncontrollably. It seemed like he was laughing, although nothing was funny. His mind was clearly gone, but that was the least of his problems. He clearly had Kuru disease. It's the disease caused by eating infected human brain tissue. Remembering the films from anthropology class at the university about the natives of Papua, New Guinea, this man was in the final stages of the disease before death.

He was found wandering around the in the jungle laughing to himself. He had either escaped, or the guards let him out to be hunted by the women. If the women ate his brains, there was a very good chance that they could get Kuru also. There is no cure. Their civilization would be as doomed as much as this man.

I didn't want to stay around for what was to happen next, but I felt an obligation to tell Elder First Smith about Kuru. If I did that, she would know that I was aware of their cannibalism. I was safe if I didn't know. I was no threat to their secret. If there was a ceremony surrounding the killing and eating of this victim and I watched it, I would also know. For now, First Miller and I stood outside our hut and watched.

It was then that Elder First Smith caught notice of me. She sent Eleventh and Twelfth over to take me to the path toward the beach. They shoved First Miller too. They thrust us forward and pointed, shaking and pointing their spears, and re-emphasizing the direction. Their friendly faces had become stern. I tried to look angry about it, but I felt fortunate inside that I was not being asked to participate. It proved that I was still a necessity around the village and they didn't want me spoiled by what I would see. I was relieved. For the man in the village in his advanced Kuru condition, if he were self-conscious at all, a sudden death would be a gift.

The farther we walked away from the village and toward the beach, the more the loud sounds of their ceremonies faded. When we got to the beach, we had a vision that would stick in our minds forever. The tide was high and the Hornblower was fully afloat. The seas beyond the breakwater seemed calm and the full moon was rising above the horizon and loomed large as seen through the mast and rigging of my boat. We sat on the beach and admired the night. Some of the stars were fading by the light of the moon, but Venus and Mars were alright tonight.

I leaned over and laid First Miller down flat in the powdery soft sand and kissed her softly.

"More sex, Jackson?"

"Romance, First Miller."

"Ro-mance?"

"Shhhh. Kiss me."

"Kiss?"

"Yes. Like this..." I held her face in my left hand, stroking her long, silken black hair from her eyes. I kissed her gently and tenderly on the lips. I kissed the tip of her nose. I kissed her eyes and her forehead. Anything I could reach without moving or letting her go, I kissed. Her response was immediate and equal. Romance was new to her. She seemed to like it. We stayed like that until the moon was rising about 45 degrees above the horizon line. She rolled me over on my back and gave me her romance. Believe me when I say, she's a fast learner. It was special because it was her gift. This wasn't an obligation to the tribal village. It was her gift to me. It wasn't about taking sex from a man, this time. Her actions were genuine. I had to say if first ...

"More love, First Miller."

"More love, Jackson."

There was no urgency toward sex. It could happen or it might not. The soft sand of the beach, the small waves lapping on the shoreline, and the blue light and shadows from the rising full moon made it even more special. I guess that's the romantic in me. I could only hope it affected her the same way. Her upbringing in the village didn't allow sentimentality.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling in the tall grasses along the tree line. I had no torch. Only my survival knife as a weapon. There were flashlights on the boat, but If I moved, we'd be easier to spot, assuming we hadn't been already. I gently placed my index finger over First Miller's lips and shook my head no. She nodded that she understood. Friend or foe, we had to be sure. We waited, not moving. I searched the vegetation for a clue.

I heard whispering in the tall grasses. The sightline toward the boat was clear in the brightness of the moonlight. Whoever it was, was coming this way. If it had been the women of the village, there should surely have been torches. I was going to defend First Miller, no matter what. I drew my survival knife. I'd forgotten about the loud click that it makes as the knife comes out of the polymer sheath. I jumped up in a threatening way, knife drawn but not in a loud voice.

"Who's there?"

"Is that you, Jackson?"

"Miller?!"

"Yes. I'm glad we found you. Were you waiting for us?"

"Not exactly, but I'm glad it happened this way. How many guys are with you?"

"Just like you said. I have six including myself, but we're all healthy enough to make the trip. The others are escaping into other parts of the island. We agreed to take off and scatter in different directions hoping some groups could avoid recapture and eventually get away. They got one of us tonight. He sacrificed himself so we could get away."

"I saw him. He had the Kuru. Trust me when I say, a quick death would be a blessing for that poor man."

There was a noise coming down the path from the village about a half mile up the hill. There were several torches. It must have been a scouting party.

"Quick. Get your men. The women know you've escaped in this direction. They're coming down the trail."

I grabbed First Miller. "We need to go!"

"Go?"

"Yes. Go now!"

I took her by the hand, and we ran together down the beach to the boat. Miller's ragged men were struggling to catch up. We had to get onboard and fire up the engine before we were engaged in mortal conflict. I climbed aboard first and helped First Miller get in. Then, one by one, I hauled the men onboard. Some didn't speak English, so Marcus did the best translations he could. They had to wade about ten feet from the shore in soft sand and ocean to reach the stern. I'm glad none of them wore shoes to as not to scratch and damage the deck of the boat. We were all aboard and the women up the trail weren't any wiser yet. They were getting closer, but they weren't running.

"Someone go up front and pull up the anchor rope." Marcus took care of that. Translations would take too long. I was glad it was a rope and not a noisy chain. I stood behind the wheel and flipped on the battery, then primed the fuel pump for the engine. The indicators were all green. I hit the ignition button. The engine ground and ground but didn't start. No wonder. The fuel had probably drained back into the tank after sitting for so long.

Up on the path, the women were getting closer and began yelling as they ran toward the beach. They'd obviously heard me try and start the engine. I was sorry I'd given them each a survival knife. I knew there were armed.

I primed the fuel pumps again, then hit the ignition button. The engine ground, sputtered, and ground some more. No joy.

The women were twenty yards up the path from the beach. Yelling.

This time, one fuel primer pump only, then the ignition button. The engine fired spewing dark smoke through the exhaust. I tried to let the oil get circulated inside the engine before I revved it a few times to be sure there were no bubbles in the fuel lines. Time was of the essence. I then slipped the transmission into forward. We still didn't move.

"Shit! The keel must be stuck in the sand."

I turned and yelled, "Everybody move to the back of the boat! Now!" I turned to Marcus. "Marcus, if they want to live, make them understand!"

I continued to rev the engine throwing up sand in the water behind the stern. I tried the old stuck in the snow trick by shifting from forward to reverse, thereby rocking the boat to break it free. A breeze came up. I got an idea. I went forward and released the jib sail. It was the quickest and easiest to unfurl. I set it at the angle that would catch the most breeze and give the engines a needed boost. I ran back to the wheel and pulled everyone back.

The women were on the beach. It was thirty yards to the shoreline from where they were, and they were running fast. The eyes reflected the fire of their torches.

Suddenly, the ship began to more. I urged the engine power to maximum -- the propeller throwing more water and sand behind us. We caught a sudden puff of a strong offshore breeze and the Hornblower began to move.

The women were right up on us wading in the water trying to catch up. The tide was still rising. Several threw their spears hoping to hit something or someone.

Call it what you want. I call it a miracle. We were now free to navigate into the South Seas. I let the jib sail and the engine pull us away from the shore. Once we got beyond the natural breakers, I hoisted the mainsail, adjusted the jib and shut down the engine. It was good to be sailing free again. Now, I had to get the passengers settled.

I set the compass toward San Francisco and set the autopilot. It was good that father had installed the solar panel to keep the batteries charged. I called all the men down below. Marcus helped. First, I showed them the Head and how to use it -- plenty of toilet paper. I closed off the door to V-berth. That was reserved for First Miller and me. The lounge area was self-explanatory. I opened a case of nutritional shakes and made sure everyone had two and showed them the shake before opening procedure. We had plenty to go around. We'd better have. It was going to be a long trip without food. I made sure of that. I pulled out the reserve blankets from under the seating. First Miller watched me handle things while sitting above the steps in the hatchway. She didn't appear happy.

"Marcus. I think you have everything you need. There's fresh water from the tap over the sink in the galley, cups in the cupboard. We'll find a safe spot tomorrow, and everyone can go for a swim, clean their clothes in the clear ocean waters, or whatever. For now, I'm sure they need some sleep. No harm will come to them tonight."

"Jackson. I'll never be able to repay you."

"Well, it's a long trip, Marcus. We have plenty of time. I'd like to hear the stories of each of your men, starting with their names, how they came to the island and their experiences while here. I'll record them all in my captain's log and have them sign it. This will all have to be reported to immigration authorities when we get to San Francisco. It will be easier to hand them the logbook, but they will still try to get official interpreters. For now, get some rest. We have about a 30-day trip. You're free now. Just think on that."

I looked toward the hatch and First Miller was gone. I went up on deck and found her at the stern looking back toward the deep blue reflection of her island. She seemed sad. I moved up and hugged her from behind. She reached up and held onto my arms tightly.

"First Miller. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I never asked you if you wanted to come with me or not. I never gave you that choice. I was selfish because I wanted you to be with me always. I wish I could make you understand." I kept my voice soft and soothing. I kissed her on top of her head and hugged her warmly.