In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or forbidden for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two consenting young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A photo album (pdf) concerning this story is available upon request marin.giustinian@laposte.net. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
The action takes place during the late eighteenth century in North Carolina, then on the Island of Flores in the Azores.
RUNAWAY ANGELS
by Marin Giustinian
By the summer of 1775, the rebellion against the Crown of England had spread throughout the British colonies of North America, south of Canada. The American Revolution was forging a whole new nation, a democracy, abolishing all royal power.
Lord Josiah Martin was the Royal Governor of the crown colony of North Carolina, serving His Majesty, King George. His seat of office and official residence was the Governor's palace in New Bern. His Estate Steward was Mr. Jasper Seymour.
Mr. Seymour was a short, stout, rather ugly fellow in his late fifties and was excellent in running the very elegant 'palace' Lord Tryon had built only a few years before. He was feared by those beneath him and obedient of those above him. His only weak point was his incorrigible lust for comely pubescent lads. He was, for this vice, lucky because of colonial law, anyone with only a fourth of other than white blood could be bought and sold as domestic propriety, in other words, slaves and with a slave, you can do whatever you want.
A notorious sodomite planter up the river from New Bern had bought a boy of the estimated age of seven from the lad's 'foster parents' on Harkers Island. By the time he turned twelve, the gentleman found the child no longer pleasing for his taste and therefore put him up for sale. That's how Jasper Seymour was able to buy a very beautiful catamite for a single gold guinea. It was a bit expensive, but the child seemingly was worth it, having been well broken in by his previous proprietor. The lad went by the name of Ezra and was a very nice blend of Indian and European blood with a touch of Moresque, originating from the coastal island of Ocracoke where frequent pirate stopovers and shipwrecks interbred a rich variety of racial colours. Seymour had the lad live with him in his personal quarters on the palace grounds, claiming him to be his 'very personal' servant boy. The young fellow was bright, polite and sufficiently trained in the ways of satisfying male lust, giving Mr. Seymour all the thrills he craved.
The job of Estate Steward didn't involve much travel nor activity in which he needed actual personal assistance, so the young Ezra, during the day, had ample time and leisure on his own amongst the slave and free staff members of the palace's household. Thus he became the daytime pet of an idle, bachelor chaplain who taught him many things, even the prohibited skill, for a slave, to read and write. This was of no bother to Seymour who considered any form of instruction as an asset to his 'investment' and any erotic novelty the boy could learn became an enjoyment for himself.
When the revolutionaries threatened to occupy the palace, Governor Martin immediately fled, and in his wake, thus did Jasper Seymour. He gathered his better belongings in a trunk, all the available money he could cram into his satchels and securing his credentials, he booked passage for him and his slave on an Irish merchant ship hauling a cargo of tar and turpentine out of the port of Beaufort for the busy shipyards of Dublin.
Ezra was now supposedly almost sixteen and had become a very handsome, racy young man. His skin was suave as a peach. As most Indian males, only a slight trace of facial hair shadowed his upper lip and other than a bouquet of soft pubic curls adorning his well proportioned sex, no body hair whatsoever was to be found elsewhere. His lips were full, tempting as strawberries and his eyes, the colour of golden amber. Nimble as a playful colt and gay as a springtime morning, he was simply a very delightful person.
"This boy is way too comely to be put on a ship at sea for weeks on end, full of lewd brutes," observed the purser as Mr. Seymour and Ezra claimed their quarters on the ship. And he was right, especially considering the loathsome conduct of his master.
Ezra was accustomed to the abuse of men, to their squeezes and kisses, their sucking and panting until spewing their acrid cum. He also knew the gags of their cocks down his throat, as he wept, gasping for breath. He had long lost the burn of a being buggered, his little arse having been fucked countless times ever since he was sold.
However, nearing the age of fourteen, he began enjoying pleasures of his own, shooting his own semen while being used on the sexual sprees of his masters. In fact, having never known any other form of affection or attention, such debauchery had become a sort of disgusting, second nature to him.
Love? He could say that he had no idea of what that was. Care, tenderness, compassion, these feelings were to him inexistent. As far as he was concerned, he was on earth only to be used for the grunting, slobbering pleasure of the men who owned him as a pet, a toy, a slave -- and that was it.
This being said, in his head things were beginning to change. When they fled the palace, Ezra stole several books in the chaplain's library and they became his favourite companions on the ship. He read about 'freedom', 'love' and those ideas made things stir in his mind as he spent hours of his idle time, sitting on the deck in the lee of a skiff, watching the sea as the ship heaved its way to the distant northeast. His nights were spent sweating under the thrusts of his master or any other way Mr. Seymour fancied emptying his balls before snoring through the night, but the day was his own time of thought and contemplation.
Seymour had met and obviously was attracted to a young bosun with whom he often exchanged a word or two. Several times they came and sat alongside Erza while they spoke about the weather or mostly about the other men on board. The bosun would smile and stare at Ezra, never seeking to dissimulate the effects of his temptation. On other occasions, when off duty, the bosun would pace up and down, alone on the deck where Ezra was sitting, smile, give him the good day, with a familiar eagerness gleaming in his eyes. Ezra recognised that singular expression of lust. Even though he never felt any appetite for sex himself, he could at least understand the young bosun who only had his furtive hand to satisfy his craving.
After some weeks under sail they were nearing the Azores. One evening, as the bosun and Seymour were smoking their pipes, they gossiped together on deck. After a while, they both returned to the passenger cabin where Ezra was getting ready to retire. There Mr. Seymour ordered Ezra to suck the bosun's cock. This went on several more evenings, until the bosun finally buggered the boy under the eyes of a very vicious Mr. Seymour. Ezra even had to suck the old lecher's stinking cock as the bosun violently fucked the boy's arse.
Somehow the word leaked out about the transactions going on between the bosun and Mr. Seymour. It became a hushed rumour on board that the passenger was pimping his slave boy.
When the news came to the captain's ears, the pious old man threw a terrible tantrum! The captain was a very severe Catholic with an Irish temper and couldn't tolerate the least idea of anything sexual going on between the me under his command. However, he knew he couldn't punish a slave who was only complying to what slaves must do, obeying his master and his master was in fact a rather important personage, probably protected by high ranking personages in the Kingdom, being the Estate Steward to a Royal Governor.
He found a satisfactory solution. He gathered everyone on deck. There in front of all, he pronounced his accusations and following sentences. The bosun was to be flogged and probably hanged on arrival in Dublin. Mr. Seymour and his catamite, no longer fit to be aboard a God fearing, Catholic ship, were to be put in a skiff with their belongings and sent ashore as they were edging along the upper western coast of the upcoming Portuguese Island of Flores.
Mr. Seymour was restless all night long, muttering to himself, rummaging through his belongings, counting his gold, carefully inspecting his papers and credentials.
This night he didn't bother Ezra. Huddled in a corner of the bed, he tried to sleep but barely had begun to doze when their cabin was abruptly unlocked and the door slammed open. Two burly sailors informed them that is was time to be disembarked.
Dawn had barely broken when they saw, on the starboard side of the ship, a low piece of land at the foot of the cliffs of the island of Flores, their imposed destination. Mr. Seymour had taken his heavy money bags out of his truck and solidly tied them to his belt. His long coat hanging down to his sturdy boots hid them quite well. The sailors threw Ezra and the trunk in the skiff as Mr. Seymour clumsily climbed in. They were lowered into the water as the ship, under only a few sheets of sail, lumbered slowly along. Once the skiff was afloat and untied, Ezra was ordered to take the oars and row them safely ashore. Seymour shouted and cursed the captain as much as he could and then slumped in silence. Minutes later, the ship picked up speed under more sails, leaving behind in its wake Ezra and his infamous master to their fate.
After an hour or so, they saw what looked like a rocky beach and attempted their approach. The wind had increased and a freakish wave lifted and drove them onto a lava reef just off shore. The skiff was cast up against it. The frail craft lurched, splintered, broke and capsized, tumbling Ezra, Seymour and his trunk overboard. The old man yelled, cursed Ezra, floundered a bit and sunk like an anvil, weighted down by his money bags, boots and coat. His hat floated as a last reminder of his ludicrous master. Little by little the trunk sunk as the remains of the skiff floated on the waves. That was the end -- the end of a world and for Ezra, the beginning of another.
Being a very accomplished swimmer, he drew himself up on the rocky beach, having had to abandon his own little sack with his few belongings and cherished books. Exhausted but alive, he stretched out on a patch of sand, completely dazed, bewildered and stunned. Alone, yet free and stranded on an unknown island with only his breeches and a shirt for sole belongings, he turned over on his side and began to weep. He wept for the joy of still being alive. He wept his sudden and unfathomed solitude. He wept, realising his dismay, not knowing what to do other than weep. He couldn't remember the last times he had wept -- and now all those choked up tears flowed as he wretched and moaned like an abandoned babe. Finally a tormented sleep overwhelmed him as he laid there, pale and immobile as a corpse.
a slave. Little did he know that he was no longer alone, nor even a slave. He was now on Portuguese soil where slavery had been abolished ten years before. Looking over him stood a tall, handsome shepherd boy living in a small hut up on the knoll beside a little wood. Quivering beside him was the shepherd's only companion, a small border collie, anxious for his master to give him permission to advance.
Having seen the boy crawl ashore, he had taken his precautions before coming down. He was ready to fight or to rescue, but he knew not which. He held his staff tight in his hand, creeping a bit closer to take a better look at the body. He saw that the survivor was breathing, that he was just a lad and that there was no blood to be seen. The poor boy was just whimpering slightly as he slept.
The dog eased up and sniffed Ezra's face, who immediately woke up, panicked, grabbing a stone, jumping to his feet. The collie only rollicked around as if he wanted to play, wagging his tail and barking. Ezra then saw Nathaniel, throwing his staff on the ground, holding out his arms in sign of peace.
Shivering, Ezra crouched, his face in his hands and weeping even more, exclaimed, "Oh my God! The Angel of death has come to take me!" and falling on his knees, he pled, "Spare me, my Lord! Spare me! I beg you my Lord, spare me please!"
The shepherd eased up to Ezra and very gently took the boy by the shoulders saying, in English, "I'm no angel. I have come to help you. Calm down. Stop crying. Look at me. I come as a friend. Look!"
Ezra lifted his eyes and fainted in the shepherd's arms. As he was carrying him up to his hut, the boy came back to his senses and struggled to be released and stand on his own.
"Here, lean on me, I'm taking you home. I'm taking you home and I'm going to take care of you! Be nice now. Keep still. Peace, I say. Calm. Keep calm, please."
Once in the hut, Ezra devoured the fresh fruits the shepherd gave him and drank gulp after gulp of the sweet spring water in the jug.
"Now, come with me to the stream. I'm going to wash the salt off of you and out of your clothes. I need to see if you have any injuries," the young shepherd told him, tenderly caressing his cheek, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead, "and when you feel better, you will tell me your story. For now, you must eat, sleep and let me take care of you. I see way too much suffering in your eyes."
Ezra surrendered completely to his rescuer. He had never been treated with kindness and care. He was ravished, even spellbound by the loving attention he was receiving, but didn't know how to cope with it.
"Are you going to sell me? Is that why you want to groom me and fix me up?"
"Sell you? My God, No, absolutely not! I -- I just want to help. There are no slaves here. Slavery has been abolished on these islands. Everybody here is free. You are free."
Ezra, astounded, obediently followed the shepherd to the flowing stream cascading down through the shrubs and flowers.
Having only known the very flat eastern plains of North Carolina, covered with pine forests, swamps, brown water, alligators, snakes and sand, there's nothing more there. Here, the landscape was beautiful like a dream. The mountainous island is lusciously covered with all kinds of exuberant vegetation, waterfalls, pinacles and lakes. When the shepherd had stripped both Ezra and himself, they stepped into the water. Ezra balked a bit, uttering, "Snakes, leeches -- I'm afraid!"
"There's only water in this water. Here on Flores there are no snakes, nor leeches nor anything else that can harm you -- perhaps a mosquito or two."
Ezra looked at him like he was crazy, then closing his eyes, he let the youth bathe him from hair to toes. His hands worked magic on Ezra's body, thrilling and soothing him at the same time. When the shepherd stepped back, Ezra kneeled facing the fall, bent over and drank deeply of the crystalline waters. After a moment he looked up at his companion and asked, "Can I sit in the water?"
"Of course! You can even lie down in it and let the current flow around you! Do it! You'll see it's fun!"
Stretching out on his back in the bed of the creek, he felt the lukewarm water run all over him, even making his dick swirl in the surging stream. He lifted his arms towards the sky, imploring the sun and for the first time in years, he laughed. He laughed and sobbed at the same time, weeping not in turmoil but in a new and exhilarating sensation, that of freedom and happiness. He was happy, because he was discovering something he couldn't yet name.
Ezra's cock was erect as he rose. It was just as beautiful as the rest. The shepherd chuckled and said, "I see you're feeling better! Turn around. Let me take a look-- Everything's all right. No injury nor bruises. I'm glad. Come."
Ezra stepped out of the waters and walked up to his friend who simply opened his arms and invited Ezra to hug. Ezra melted against his companion who wrapped his arms around him gently holding him in a comforting embrace, rocking him ever so slightly, nuzzling his hair and rubbing his back.
As they slowly separated, they were both smiling in each other's eyes. Nathaniel then spoke saying, "Let's wash these too!" as he stooped to pick up Ezra's filthy, salty breeches and shirt as well as his own meagre clothing.
Ezra took both of the breeches and Nathaniel, the shirts, and they scrubbed and laughed, splashing each other abundantly, glistening naked in the late morning light.
As they were laying their wash over the bushes to dry, the shepherd kept on talking, hoping his words would help his ward to open up.
"My name is Nathaniel Burns. I'm from Scotland, Aberdeen to be exact. And you?"
"My name's Ezra. That's all I know. I'm a slave -- from the colony of North Carolina."
Nathaniel went on, "Fate had it that I was nearly a slave myself. I was enrolled as a cabin boy when I was twelve, then bartered off to a so called privateer in Jamaica. More of a pirate to tell the truth. I was bullied and buggered by all the filthy blokes on board. I was sick of all the cum, scum and piss I had to swallow, of all the cocks that were being rammed up my bottom, making me bleed, ripping me apart."
"I've had my share of all that too," whispered Ezra, suddenly sullen.
"But now that's all over for us both! Cheer up! We've both escaped that fate forever!"
Ezra looked up, his eyes questionning Nathaniel's.
"After three years of that, two years ago, on the way back to England, I skipped ship, deserted as you could say, as we were at anchor here on Flores. Nearly got shot as I swam ashore and hid. I sneaked around as long as I could, hiding until the ship left. Then when I was free to come out, I was taken in by a wonderful old shepherd and his wife. They had no children to help them, so they sort of adopted me. They are really nice. I learned Portuguese and I helped them herding the sheep and spinning the wool. My grandma had taught me how to spin and knit back home. Last year, my protector said I was now a man, so he set me up in this little hut you see there, with some sheep to keep down on this piece of land where you washed up. I feel better off down here away from the village, on my own. I don't want to get mixed up with the villagers... especially with the lassies who fancy me a bit too much. I get lonely sometimes, but it's better for me here, I'm sure."
"Why don't you go back to Scotland?"
"And get hanged? I'm a deserter. I can't go back. I can't!" replied Nathaniel with emotion.
"I see."
They went back to the hut and Nathaniel got some clothes out for himself and some, a bit too big, for Ezra. Sitting down together on the knoll just outside, overlooking the sea, they continued getting to know each other.
"That's enough about me," said Nathaniel, "tell me some about yourself. How did you get stranded? You couldn't have swum all the way from the ship I saw at sunrise this morning. When I came back down from tending my flock, I saw you there like dead."
Ezra edged up to Nathaniel and speaking in a very low voice, told his story. It lasted a real long time. Nathaniel listened, never interrupting, impressed by what his new friend was telling him. He had problems understanding the colonial war against the Crown. He never thought that slavery was so inhuman and that the finer gentry could be so cruel. Ezra felt relieved to be able to talk about himself for the first time and to have someone sincerely listening to him. When he finally got around to the wreck of the skiff, he finished by saying, "As the old man fell and started to sink, he yelled at me screaming and cursing me, saying that I had wrecked the skiff on purpose to kill him and he sent me to hell and then he went under -- I'm not a murderer, Nathaniel! I swear I didn't kill him. He just fell! The waves dashed us on the reef. I'm still afraid his ghost will come back to claim me!"
"Don't fret my young friend! I'm here. I'll protect you," replied Nathaniel, putting his arm around Ezra's shoulder.
"Hold me again, please. I've never been held like that. It's good! I feel at peace in your arms."
"Here, come over here. Sure enough, I'll hold you as much as you need. I like holding you too -- because you hold me back. Ha!"
They snuggled up real tight, burying their lips in the neck of each other and then softly their lips met. The sun was slipping behind the cliff casting a serene shadow over the boys, both staring at the glimmer dancing on the sea.
After a long, warm moment, Nathaniel rose, "Could you go in the hut and blow some on the coals to kindle a blaze. We'll heat some stew for tonight. I'm going to tend the sheep." And with his dog, off he went. As the sun was setting, the two fugitive angels dined on a substantial lamb stew with vegetables and brown bread, then undressed and cuddled up in bed.
"I feel so safe with you, Nathaniel. Good night... and thank you -- thank you a lot!"
"Good night, dear Ezra. Rest up!"
That night both Ezra and Nathaniel felt something they had never experienced before. The simple warmth of love and trust.
Ezra had never been given the opportunity to know if he could be attracted to girls or even other boys. The only intimacy he had known as a growing lad was with his masters and the chaplain, if one could call their carnal lubricity intimacy, nothing near to caring love.
Nathaniel, on his side, had been so abused in the stench, filth and violence aboard as a cabin boy, that once he was free, he was terrified by anything concerning sex. He kept his distance with everyone, trusting only his protectors. However, during the past year of living alone in his hut, his soul had begun to heal. He found pleasure and relief, feeling lightheaded and giddy, alone in the thralls of nature. He found deep consolation in the scent of the flowers, in the caress of the swirling water around his body as he relaxed, laying in the stream, his cock fluctuating, lazily swelling in the current, then in his hand. He thus sometimes spilt his semen, letting it out to sea in an act of communion with nature. Just as it stirs all living things, nature's energy prompts even more the body of a healthy young male. Nonetheless, he was beginning to yearn for more company than that of his dog. He missed smiles and simple conversation. He often sang aloud all the English songs and hymns he knew, just to feel the vibration of his mother tongue moving his lips, filling his mouth and throat. But what he yearned for the most was to light the flame of selfness that only love can spark. Only then, could he imagine being totally alive, pure and no longer afraid.
Female temptation was something he never felt, no matter how fair or winsome the lass could be. It even seemed to bother him as he told Ezra. For neither of them, having been subject to such cruel abuse did it even cross their minds that sex could be emotionally uplifting, delicate and loving, kindling rapture, ecstasy and above all, love with another. Finally, during this first night of grace, the mysterious peace of selfness began glow. Their souls uniting began to quench their unknown thirst of surrender.
The rising sun shed its glow on the two entangled angels sleeping near the tiny window, enveloping them in an aura of happiness, tenderness and warmth.
Ezra heard a whisper in his ear, "Good morning, my young friend. Bless you."
He shifted some in his shepherd's arms, smiling as he opened his sleepy eyes. "Good morning and bless you too," he whispered, stretching to kiss Nathaniel's smile, their hard morning cocks pressing one against the other, throbbing ever so slightly.
They laughed as they playfully wallowed in the pile of wool-stuffed cushions that served as a bed, struggling each to be the first to get up. Once in the sun, they both stretched and sighed their relief as they peed.
"It's hard to piss when it's as hard as this!" exclaimed Nathaniel, shaking his very elegant, stiff cock.
"I'm rarely this hard myself! It's fun!" shouted Ezra as he broke away running, cock bobbing, towards the stream with Nathaniel, close behind on his heels.
Once in the water, they stooped, splashing each other, scrubbing and rubbing and suddenly hugging, proudly gleaming, being alive together. As their calm came back, they finished up by washing each other's hair, their faces, their pits, pulling back their foreskins, cleansing their cocks and cracks. They put on their freshly dried clothes and walking back to the hut, Ezra asked, "Can we go back to where the skiff wrecked yesterday. I want to see if anything -- or anybody has washed ashore?"
"Of course. Then afterwards, we must go up to the village. I have to introduce you to my protectors and see what they advise us to do for you to be safe and happy here -- with me, if so be your desire."
"I can't leave you! But, are you sure I must show myself now? I'm afraid to be hanged for murdering my master or flogged as a runaway. I'm too scared!"
"Don't worry, dearest Ezra. Nothing bad can ever happen to you now! I swear!"
"You swear so?"
"I said I SWEAR it! Don't worry. Believe me! Come on I'm hungry!"
After some cheese and fruits and checking on the sheep, Nathaniel filled his back-pack basket with the skeins of wool he had spun over the last days to take them up to be woven by his protector's wife.
Together, with the dog, they walked back down to the shore. The only trace that could be found of the wreck were the two oars and some of the planking of the skiff that had washed up on the tide and strewn amongst the stones. Ezra looked relieved.
"Once his corpse has bloated, Mr. Seymour will wash up too... don't you think so, Nathaniel?"
"No, Ezra. the crabs here are voracious. By now they've probably finished with his flesh and are working on the cloth of his garments. Maybe one day, after a big storm, there'll be a scull or a bone or a tooth or two up here. That's all."
"Maybe the things in the trunk too. I don't even know what he had in them."
"Time will tell, Ezra. Don't fret. That's all over now. We have to take care of the future. You have no place to go but here with me. I feel so much tenderness for you! Let's plan to stay together like I said. I'm sure my protectors can help us."
"If you say so, Nathaniel. I trust you. Let's go up and face..."
"Face what?"
"I don't know. Just hold me once more."
"Once more? I'll never stop wanting to hold you! Just promise you'll never leave."
"What's a promise?"
"It's like if you say you'll never leave me, then you never go away."
"My heart has already promised."
"Happy! You make me happy, Ezra! Here take an oar. I'll carry the other."
Nathaniel's feet were used to being bare and he strode the path quite swiftly without a problem. Ezra was used to shoes and soft sand under his feet. Barefoot on the ground, he had to go easy.
"I'm sorry, Nathaniel, but my feet hurt a little."
"You'll get used to it! Over here, only the priest and the officer have shoes. For the rest of us we're always barefoot. It never gets cold enough here to worry about our feet and there's nothing that stings nor bites. We'll just take our time. No haste necessary."
"What are we going to tell the people? Your protectors for instance?"
"The truth, Ezra. The whole wretched, ugly truth! You are so beautiful that whatever you say, people will love and trust you! Believe me."
"So that's why they love and trust you then, like I do."
"What?"
"Your beauty, Nathaniel."
"Am I really that comely? I haven't seen a mirror for years."
"Then let me be your mirror and you trust me too. You are the most beautiful person in the world for me."
Nathaniel stopped walking, turned, cast his oar on the ground and held out his arms to Ezra who immediately threw his oar down too and melted in his friend's embrace. Instinctively they began kissing, grinding their cocks together and weeping as if something very dark had flown away, fleeing and freeing their souls, leaving only the light of a newborn love glowing in their tears.
"My heart is going to jump out of my throat! Do you feel how it's pounding in my breast?"
"Mine's pounding the same, Ezra! Don't you feel how I tremble?"
As their life's energy mingled, they experienced for the first time the thrilling miracle of simply sharing the thrill of being alive.
Lighthearted and confidant, they strode up to the house of Leonel and Goretti Silveira, Nathaniel's protectors. They propped the oars against the wall and Nathaniel took the load off his back and put it on the ground. Senhora Goretti showed up on the threshold and joyfully hugged her boy. Then she looked at Ezra from head to foot and questioned Nathaniel as to who this handsome, young stranger could be. As he spoke, she had them come in and sit. Still listening, she put bread and honey on the table and poured some milk in two bowls and placed them in front of the young men. Nathaniel finished his explanations. There was a moment of silence and then Senhora Goretti raised her arms shouting, "Divino Espirito Santo! um outro anjo do mar paracido contigo!"
Ezra glanced at Nathaniel with a glint of fear in his eyes.
"She just said, 'Holy Ghost! Another angel from the sea who looks like you!' You see, nothing to fear," said Nathaniel, putting his hand on Ezra's.
Senhora Goretti came over to Ezra and held him tight against her generous breasts, rocking and repeating over and over, 'pobrezinho, pobrezinho!', poor boy, poor boy.
In between time, Leonel came in. The boys respectfully stood and Goretti shuffled over to him, overflowing with Ezra's story. A bit overtaken by this sudden break of news, Leonel hugged Nathaniel, then held out his hand to Ezra. Instead of taking it, Ezra bowed and fell on his knees, much to the surprise of all.
"Please stand, Ezra. Mister Leonel asks you to stand up," insisted Nathaniel.
He slowly stood and the old man hugged him as he would a son.
Once things had calmed down, they all sat around the table. Ezra sipped on his milk, relishing the bread and honey as Nathaniel explained everything about him being there. They talked on and on and then came up to the following conclusion. "The best thing we must do, according to my protectors, is to present you to the assembly of the members of the 'Imperio do Espirito Santo', the brotherhood of the Holy Ghost, their religion here. Senhor Leonel is a deacon in the brotherhood. The whole village attends."
Ezra looked very puzzled about what Nathaniel was saying.
"Yes, I know all of that is strange, too new for you to readily understand. I'll tell you all about it later. What's important is that the next gathering of the village happens to be in two days. We shall all attend. You will give the assembly the oars of your wreck as a proof of your situation and a gift to the community. The others may ask you some questions and after that, you become a member of the village. You will be seen in eyes of all as the companion that the Holy Ghost has sent me, a young brother of tongue. If the officials from the parish or the government ask any questions, Senhor Leonel will vouch for you. Now all we must do is find you a name."
Ezra looked back and forth at the three others waiting for his answer. "I want to be named as a new man... named, Ezra Newman. Will that do?"
"Welcome to your new land, Ezra Newman!"
With tears on the brink of his eyes, Ezra rose and very elegantly stepped up to Senhora Goretti, took her hand, bowed and kissed it, then turning to Senhor Leonel, he did the same. Both of them sheepishly grinned as he and Nathaniel hugged, and then laughed breaking into a little jig, jumping aroung as the old couple clapped in rhythm their dance of joy.
Senhora took a lenghth of twine and took Ezra's measures in order to sew him an extra shirt and a pair of trousers. She then loaded Nathaniel's pack basket with food and even a little bottle of liquor for them to celebrate together, once back by their own fire. They both bade the Silveira's good-bye and took the path back down, their dog rushing back and forth, chasing butterflies. Their hearts soared like the dove on wing over their heads.
Ezra went with Nathaniel to tend the sheep. He had never been exposed to them before and found it fun to grab, pet and chase them around as the dog ran after him, barking and nipping at his heels.
"Don't excite them, Ezra. If you do that, they're going to be afraid of you. And the poor dog, he doesn't know how to handle you and them at the same time."
"I'm sorry! I feel so much like having fun!"
"Do you then? Well, how about this!" jested Nathaniel as he leapt on Ezra, tackling him to the ground in the soft mossy grass on the knoll. They tossed and tickled each other, scrambling and laughing until Nathaniel pinned Ezra, struggling on his back. He held his arms, splayed to the ground, moved in and kissed his rowdy companion, stifling his laugher until it became only deep, sensual sighs.
All of a sudden, Ezra relaxed, kissing Nathaniel back, prodding his mouth with his eager tongue, wrapping his legs around his companion's thighs. They rolled and managed to sit, facing one another, quiet, attentive, slightly panting, looking deep into the eyes of each other.
"Do we?" asked Nathaniel with a touch of urgency in the voice.
"Do we what?" replied Ezra, amused.
"Do we dare spill our seed together?"
"Only if we drink it, Nathaniel. I thirst for you! I never knew that..." he suddenly became silent.
"That what?"
"That what used to be so sordid could -- with you -- become, become something... Holy."
Nathaniel reached over and caressed Ezra's cheek, his lips, his chest down to his very erect cock. They jumped up and fumbling with the drawstrings of their blousing breeches, pulled them off. Then fast as a heartbeat, they both stripped their shirts and fell back nude on the turf. They coiled and grabbed each other's cock, sucking, swallowing them with compelling need, bucking, writhing, carried away in a totally unsuspected rage of ecstasy. They groaned. They whimpered between the assaults of their welcoming throats. Both were irremediably lost in the upheaval of orgasm. Their legs stretched out and stiffened, their toes curled, they desperately held each other's trembling arse as the gushing flow of semen shot on and on, both together, deep into each other. They swallowed, gasping between the strident shrills of their moans. Once released, collapsing on their backs, spent, trying to catch their breath, tears of joy streamed from their eyes, gleaming in the afternoon sun.
This was not sex, nor even simple lust. It was love in eruption. For the very first time, they experienced love, merged in love, made love in love, for love's sake. Theirs was a potent, explosive love, pure as the flowing waters of the nearby steam, merging freely with the sea. Their souls melted into an alloy, henceforth indivisible like the gold and silver of electrum.
They felt no need to talk about what had happened between them. They knew exactly what the other was feeling. Their connexion was more than simple affection. Time was abolished. Nowness prevailed.
As they strolled back to the hut, hand in hand, they felt such harmony that they had forgotten to pick up their clothes. The dog came running up and stopped in front of them as they broke out laughing. Dragging from his snout was Nathaniel's shirt. "I'll fetch the rest!" giggled Ezra as he ran back up the hill.
"And I'll gather some wood for the fire! I'm starving!" shouted back Nathaniel.
After eating, they decided to keep the liquor bottle to celebrate after the assembly meeting at the 'Imperio do Espirito Santo' and they settled down in front of the fire.
"Ezra, do you know anything about carding wool and spinning with a drop spindle?"
"None whatsoever... I'm sorry, but I'm willing to learn if you'll have the patience to teach me. I want to do my share of the work!"
Slowly, Nathaniel showed Ezra how you rub the cards together to fleece the wool and take out the burrs, brambles, twigs and grass. Ezra tried. The result needed working on.
Nathaniel then took the fleece, twisted a bit, hooked it to the spindle and spun it like a toy top, feeding the wool from his other hand into the yarn it was spinning.
"Now you try."
That required more skill and practice than the carding. Ezra smiled sheepishly saying, "I'll work on that too! Please be patient with me..."
So with Ezra carding the wool, making nice fluffy fleece with Nathaniel spinning, the night fell. The dwindling fire cast just enough light for Nathaniel to make a skein around Ezra wrists.
"Let's sleep now. I've never been so happy and tired at the same time," said Nathaniel, yawning.
"Me too! Come let me help you undress."
They cuddled under the cover as the last flames flickered. After such an eventful day, they both nearly fell asleep as they entwined their legs, pressing their cocks together, enjoying a calm, loving kiss.
Ezra and Nathaniel washed and shaved and went into the village to attend the assembly meeting. They first arrived at the Silveira's house and all together, carrying the oars, they walked to the join the others at the 'Imperio do Santo Espirito'. Ezra was looked at from head to toe by everyone present. It was obvious that they all wondered where did this handsome youth come from and how did he get to the village, Faja Grande, unnoticed.
Nathaniel sat close to Ezra on the bench. When the ritual words of greeting were said, the head deacon asked Leonel to speak. He stood and began to tell who the stranger was and how he was rescued by Nathaniel. He then requested Nathaniel to continue. As he was busy translating, he was slightly startled by the request, hesitated an instant and then said that it was best for Ezra to tell his story and that he would translate.
Ezra complied, stood and began, "I was born in America. My mother was of mixed blood, her mother was a Coree, the name of her Indian tribe and her father, my grandfather, was a Moor who had survived a shipwreck on my native island. When she was barely nubile, she was raped by an Englishman passing through and died giving me birth. I was fostered by a family who sold me as a slave to a planter on the mainland while I was at the age of losing my baby teeth."
He went on as Nathaniel translated, speaking in a very sober, factual voice. He pursued, relating his first master, then Mister Seymour, the revolution and the ship to Ireland. He finished by telling how and why he and his master were put off the ship and the wreck that followed, wherein his proprietor drowned, he pointed at the oars they had laid on the floor and said, "The sea washed these up along with me. I'm now here and the oars are yours. I wish to be free with you as a lifetime companion of Nathaniel."
He exchanged a silent smile with Nathaniel as he concluded, almost whispering, the translation. The assembly remained silent, struck by the emotion. The head deacon quietly rose and beckoned Ezra to step forward, holding wide open his arms. As Ezra slowly walked up to the smiling old man, the assembly applauded. He hugged the young man and beckoned Nathaniel to join them. When he joined Ezra, the assembly cried out 'Louvado seja Deus quem nos deu esses novos' , Praise be the Lord who gave us these youths!
As the small crowd of islanders congratulated Ezra, welcoming him, patting him on the back, Nathaniel told him that some were saying that they had extra clothes for him, others were saying that if they needed something to not hesitate asking.
As the assembly continued discussing their current affairs, the two boys went outside, relieved, happy and sat in silence, looking the full moon rising. Later on, Leonel told them that he had talked with the other deacons and they had decided to tell the authorities that the boy had fallen overboard and was able to swim to shore, never mentioning him as a former slave, nor the drowning of his master.
Leonel and Goretti kept them over for the evening meal. The moon lit their way as they walked back home, loaded again with clothes, salt, sugar, fruits and even a piece of goat meat.
"Now our life begins, Ezra!" exclaimed Nathaniel as they opened the door to their home.
"Yes, I'm now Ezra New-man! Kiss me now! I can't wait any longer! Let's go back up on the knoll. I need you so much. I can't contain my joy any longer. The moon is smiling on us, Nathaniel, and the night is so warm..."
As their bodies and souls melted into one under a shower of shooting stars, little did they imagine that another miracle was in the waiting.
Their days went along with work and their nights with seemingly unlimited bliss. They had stocked wood, make improvements on the hut, turning it into a rather decent home. Each time they were in the village, they were greeted with respect and affection.
Little by little, Ezra took on to many new things : carding and spinning, even knitting. Also, Nathaniel was teaching him Portuguese in exchange of Ezra's lessons in reading and writing. Ezra was quickly maturing into a healthy, handsome young Azorian along with his companion, his 'amigo de amor,' as committed 'love friends' are referred to on the island.
A few weeks before Christmas, a strong winter gale roared in from the West. As night was falling, the wind howled, bashing sheets of rain against the house. Ezra had lived through hurricanes before and Nathaniel, through many gales himself, but this one seemed to be particularly potent. The sheep were well parked behind the stone walls surrounding their pen keeping them normally out of danger, sheltered from the wind, but the dog was uneasy as the bleating of the poor animals filtered through the deafening gusts. No fire in the chimney was possible. They decided to try to sleep, if possible, and pray that the roof remained over their heads. As the night crawled on, the swollen waterfalls flooded the stream beds. The nearby creek sounded like a thunderous cataract. Every now and then the grumble of rolling boulders and landslides, tumbling down the rocky cliffs of the island, could be heard in the distance. They waited it out, huddling together, nearly buried under the fur and wool covers.
As dawn broke, peace seemed to reign at last. Only the crashing waves broke the silence of the morning calm. The dog was soundly sleeping at the foot of the bed as the boys emerged, a bit dazed from such an uneasy night.
Outside, the sight was unbelievably beautiful. At daybreak, hundreds of trembling rainbows danced in the waterfalls, splashing their colours down the cliffs in the rising sun. The heaving waves majestically sprawled their foam on the rocky beach. Birds sang, greeting the return of peace.
"Let's hope there's no injuries among the sheep," exclaimed Ezra, concerned more than ever for them. They both strode over to the enclosure. All was fine. They pulled away the beams baring the entrance and the sheep rushed out into open space.
Of course there was some havoc here and there. Their bathing stream was the most heavily ravaged. The bordering vegetation was ripped away and the water was still brownish red, overflowing the banks.
"In a day or two, the water will be clear again, and the plants will soon grow back... and look at all the dead wood. We'll be able to keep a fire as long as we want! I feel we're quite lucky!" declared Nathaniel.
"Yes, we are. Let's go back down on the beach to see what's washed up. You never know..."
"If that frees your mind, dear Ezra, let's go. Maybe we'll find some fish stranded in the tidal pools!"
They were impressed by the quantity of driftwood scattered on the rocks but nothing more had changed. No trace of bones nor boots or anything revealing the late Mister Seymour. As they were checking the puddles looking for fish, Ezra stopped, stooped and screamed, picking up handful of golden coins.
"Nathaniel! Come! Fast! Look! Look at that!"
Ezra fell back on his knees, digging in the pebbles and rough sand, pulling up pieces of eight, guineas and a few reals of gold. Nathaniel, dumbfounded at first, then almost hysterical, dug and laughed as he also pulled up fistfuls of gold. Then they finally uncovered the gutted sack in which the treasure had been rolled ashore by the waves, gleaming in Ezra and Nathaniel's hands.
"You are rich, Ezra! Rich as a prince!"
"You mean WE are rich, Nathaniel! This gold has been given to us and us alone. The gods of the sea are mighty and by this gift of gold, they prove their love for us! Come, let's gather the coins and count. Do you have any idea of their worth?"
"More or less, Ezra. I know that a lot can be bought in the United Kingdom with just one of these coins. I also know that it's worth even more here or in the American colonies. I'm dizzy with what we've found! Dizzy and bewildered!"
Sitting at the little table in their home, they separated the coins by their origins. There were the doubloons of Spain, reals from Portugal and guineas from England. Each denomination was more or less of equal size. When they had finished counting them over and over, they began to realise the size of the fortune they had in front of them and it was simply beyond their understanding. However; what they did understand was that they must be terribly careful.
That very afternoon, they took a coin of each denomination and went back up to the Silveira's. Both he and she were at home. After talking about the gale, they sat and put the coins on the table, explaining that these and many more like them had washed up during the night.
"Fortuna do mar!" exclaimed Goretti as she and Leonel excitedly explained that they were now the owners of the treasure.
"Fortune of the sea, and by law we are sole owners..." translated Nathaniel.
It was made clear that they should keep it all hidden and not spend it locally. Doing so could raise useless and dangerous suspicion. They should book passage on a ship and leave the island anywhere else to then come back as if they had struck fortune in some faraway place. Then they could spend it on the island without raising jealousy nor fearing threats from anyone.
"Leonel has an answer for everything!" Ezra claimed as they went back home, "we must connive a plan. Let's start by making a chest for the gold and stash it in a safe place. Above all, we should not change our ways of living!"
"That's why I love you even more, Ezra!"
"Come! Let's open the bottle of liquor that was given to us months ago. We must celebrate!"
"You're right! We'll do our conniving tomorrow!"
After eating, they put a pile of wood on the fire and settled down with the bottle and two cups. They giggled like school boys getting into mischief. As they were getting tipsy, lust began gleaming in their eyes. They had made love in all the imaginable ways possible -- and then some, but this time, something more was happening in them : the promise of a life without hardship, without injustice nor hurt. They were suddenly aware that they were the strongest and that they had the power to live as they choose. That awareness made them even more humble in love for each other. Their love was a thanksgiving, a grace bestowed on them.
Nathaniel slowly stood and discarded his garments in front of the fire. His hair gleamed and the glow of his skin embellished the svelteness of his perfect body. Ezra rose and denuded himself likewise. He eased up to Nathaniel. They began covering each other with kisses. They tumbled on the bed and continued until Ezra, freed himself from the blissful turmoil they were engaging in and grabbed the cruet of olive oil. Falling back on Nathaniel, they sucked cock almost to explosion. Ezra flipped Nathaniel on his back and sat on his thighs anointing his cock with the precious oil. He eased himself down on it, leaning over, smothering his love with kisses, humming and kneading his chest, his heart, his soul.
They barely moved. The muscles of Ezra arse massaged Nathaniel's pulsing cock. All of their merging energy was boiling inside. No need was felt to be rampant nor rambunctious. They simply let love happen without stress nor empressement, never pursuing ecstasy but just letting it blossom in love on its own. Then trembling, transpiring, panting, they both screamed, clenched in a simultaneous orgasm holding each other for dear life.
Once their heart beats slackened, but not their erections, they began the same ritual, this time Nathaniel receiving Ezra deep inside. Seemingly no fatigue nor faintness hindered them. As if roused by the mystical forces of the previous night's tempest and the gods goodwill, they loved and slumbered and loved again till dawn broke into another glorious day.
A host of angels must have been watching over them. All their plans went along as if by magic. Once the whalers from New England were back hunting off the island, bringing with them news of the birth of a new nation called the independent State of Massachusetts, Ezra and Nathaniel booked passage to Boston.
With their fortune, they commissioned the construction of a yankee pinky schooner from a shipbuilder in nearby New Bedford. After the launching and trials, they equipped the boat to return to the Azores and hired two young 'brothers in love' from the island of Corvo to join them and make up a crew of four. All together, they sailed with the late autumn winds back to their island homes. There was just enough gold left in their little lockbox to keep them, their two crew members and the boat in shape until their business venture began.
They created a mail service, carrying letters, packets and an occasional passenger or two, connecting Flores and Corvo to the port towns of the central group of islands. They sailed regularly to Horta on the island of Faial and to Angra on the island of Terceira, thus alleviating the weight of remoteness for the population of the islands further west, increasing prosperity, culture and opportunity for many.
As it's said, the pendulum swings in both directions. All of the lewd lust, hurt and disgrace that made Ezra's childhood and Nathaniel's youth a living hell, pushed the pendulum so far back that when the swing reversed, it was so unbelievably powerful that the rope broke, freeing their souls and hearts forever, in unlimited love, peace and goodwill for all.
A photo album (pdf) concerning this story is available upon request marin.giustinian@laposte.net.