Blue

Charles hid in his quarters as he listened to the chaos happening on the Auriga. They had set sail from England and the trip had been uneventful until they were sailing around the Horn of Africa, and danger appeared on the horizon. A pirate ship pursued them into the Indian Ocean. The sails of the pirate ship followed them for days, while their crew worked frantically to keep the Auriga at full sail, moving as fast as possible. He remembered the day of the sighting. It was just after high noon, and he had been in the captain’s quarters. He watched the captain write in his journal, recording the events of that morning when two men were found to have scurvy. At the top of the page was the date: 24th of March 1784.

How long it had been since that day, Charles had lost track. He remembered days spent following the captain as orders were yelled out or stood on the Quarter deck watching the pirate ship slowly gain on them. It was a larger ship, with more sail. Each day that passed found the pirates closing on them. Each day found it a bit larger in the telescope until a telescope was no longer needed.

Charles heard what sounded like blunderbusses going off, then men yelling again. He cowered in the dark corner realizing the smell of gunpowder was heavy in the air. How could a day change so drastically? That morning the pirates were close, but still trailing behind them, but by late afternoon, their faster pace finally put them along the Auriga’s starboard side. The captain gave Charles the journal he was carrying and told him to get below deck and secure his quarters.

Charles hid the captain’s most valuable items in the floor safe, including the journals, the current one from the captain and the three that were filled with his writings. He hid the bottles with their daily reports sealed inside. Then he checked the door again making sure it was securely locked and crouched down behind the desk. As the crew battled the pirates that had swung onto deck, he thought of his short life and how it appeared it could come to an end very soon. There was being sold to the captain at thirteen by his parents, too poor to feed him and his siblings. James, the oldest was needed on the farm, and Rachel and William were too young, so it was he, they sold as a cabin boy. That had been five years ago.

The ship rocked on the waves of the ocean as it continued forward at full sail. Charles kept his eyes on the door while begging for the Auriga to find some additional speed and get them away from the pirate ship. Then there were the explosions of cannon fire. It made the ship shudder. It sounded to Charles like nearly every cannon on the starboard side were fired. There was a moment of apparent silence. Charles knew it was the dulling of one’s hearing after such an explosive noise. Time seemed to stop. The chaos on deck and below was no longer noticeable. Then everything seemed engulfed in an explosion of great immensity. The Auriga was bombarded by debris. The deck above and the starboard side echoed with the sound of it striking the ship. He knew the pirate ship exploded. The Auriga leaned toward port side then slowly righted itself. Men continued to yell, but it was far fewer voices. Then everything grew silent.

Charles waited until he heard no more gun fire or men yelling out commands. Looking out the windows along the stern, it was obvious the ship was moving in a slow rotation. He unlocked the door, took a deep breath smelling burnt gun powder, wood, and what he feared was human flesh, then eased out. There were dead crew and pirates lying everywhere. Some died by gun shots, but most were by the sword. He moved up on deck and gasped. The masts were stripped bare. Nothing of the sails or rigging remained. Small fires burned on deck and much of the starboard side was charred wood. There were a few groans and moans, and he rushed to each man to see how bad their wounds. He found four crewmen and one pirate still alive, but he knew none would survive long. Their blood loss too great. He searched for the captain and found him on the quarter deck having been run through by a sword. Looking out over the rolling waves of the Indian Ocean, he searched for the pirate ship, but the horizon was clear. Just water and sky for as long as the eye could see.

He went back to the injured men, the pirate first. In a fit of fury, he tossed the injured man overboard and watched him sink below the surface. It didn’t take long with the man’s blood loss for the sharks to arrive. Then he attended to his own men, moving them below deck and cleaning their wounds and treating them as best he could as the hopelessness was evident in the eyes of the two that were conscious.

“Charles…don’t waste your time with us…save yourself,” Gunther whispered, struggling to speak each word.

“No…you have to survive. I need you,” Charles replied struggling to not let tears pool in his eyes.

“I’m afraid you’ll…have…no…choice,” Gunther uttered through clinched teeth, fighting to say each word through the pain.

Darkness settled over the ocean as Charles worked to keep each man alive. He lost Ezra first, just before sunset. It made him redouble his efforts with the surviving men. It was late at night, the ship dark except for the few lanterns below deck, when Vincent fell silent in death’s grip. Gunther and Martin were unconscious, their breathing labored, unaware they were the last of the crew. Charles felt the hopelessness of the situation. His efforts having no bearing on what was to come. He was exhausted, hungry, not having stopped to eat since Ezra died, and he was desperate to get from the confinement of below deck. He went up to the quarter deck and stared up at the night sky. It was brilliant with stars and to the east, hovering over the dark waters, the crescent moon. He sat down on the charred, stained deck, then lay back just looking at the constellations, picking out the ones he knew. He tried to find a black patch of sky, some place amongst the stars where none existed, but there were few and they were very small. It made him feel small and inconsequential.

Nothing made sense to him. The madness of the world, with its unspeakable cruelty seemed to be invading his body like the plague, making him feel sick. He just wanted to be somewhere safe. A place where men were not trying to rob and kill each other. He tried to imagine such a place, to give it form to make it seem real. His breathing slowed and eyelids grew too heavy. He closed his eyes, telling himself it was for just a few minutes.

The sun was hot against his skin, and Charles woke with a start. He struggled to open his eyes for the bright sun hovered overhead. He sat up and looked around remembering the destruction that surrounded him. Then he remembered Gunther and Martin and jumped to his feet and rushed below deck. He knew as soon as he entered the room both men were dead. He saw the pallor of their skin and the utter stillness of each man. He leaned against the wall and stared at the lifeless bodies feeling how utterly alone he was in the world. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he let them as he stared at Gunther, then Martin.

Finally wiping his face, Charles moved to each man and covered him out of respect for each. It was cruel that he should survive when such fine men should be taken. He stepped back and knew each of the crew deserved a proper burial. A sailor’s burial at sea.

The sun was only half visible on the western horizon, its light changing dramatically. The waters reflected the reds, oranges, and yellows as the sky darkened in hue, turning a deep violent in the east. The darkness crept overhead as the sun dropped below the horizon. In the shadows of the captain’s quarters, one lone lantern lit, Charlie had finally stopped to eat. The crew were laid to rest on the bottom of the ocean, and he was now alone on the ship. Without sails, the ship floated with the currents, and he had no idea where that would take him. He tied the rudder in place, keeping it straight, sick of the ship slowly circling. It still rotated and turned but it was far less noticeable.

Finally getting his fill after two days of going hungry, he went back to his own quarters with its small narrow bed and laid down. He was asleep before the bed warmed beneath him.

For days, the Auriga drifted in the Indian Ocean. Each one was hot, the sun blistering as it beat down on the battered ship. Charles stayed below deck during the hottest parts of the day, then spent most of the night on deck staring up at the sky imagining a different life, one with hope and happiness. He came to sleep during the middle of the day, then spent all night on the deck.

How much time passed, Charles had no idea? Keeping up with the date seemed a fool’s errand, something he couldn’t endure. To keep track of his time alone was beyond his endurance. But after days, weeks, maybe even a month or two, a storm came into view from the south. Its dark clouds rose high into the sky and stretched an unimaginable distance across the horizon. At first the winds blew toward it, the storm sucking in the moist ocean air to fuel it violence. As it drew near to the hapless Auriga, the winds changed direction and intensity. They blew with increasing speed until the ocean roiled, tossing the ship around. Charles went into the captain’s quarters, securing the door. He lay on the captain’s bed holding on to the sides to keep from being tossed to the floor. The sky grew dark with the clouds blocking out the sun, then it grew darker with night arriving at the same hour as the worst of the storm. The ship pitched at frightening angles, rolled with the waves, at times the bow crashing back into the ocean. Charles feared the ship would soon go down, then he laughed at the absurdity of it, the notion of going down in a storm after surviving an attack by pirates. The night passed slowly as Charles held tight to the bed until his arms and legs ached with the effort.

Gradually, over time, the storm lessened until Charles was finally able to relax. The ship continued to pitch and rock, but not nearly as severely and it rocked him to sleep. As he drifted off, the storm pushed the ship into waters unknown to the west. It slipped around islands and peninsulas, until it ran aground on a sandbar off the coast of an island. It listed to starboard and settled into the sand. Below deck, Charles slept.

Charles woke with a start. He was against the wall and quickly realized the ship was not moving. He could hear waves lapping at the side of the ship and waves off in the distance. He knew the ship had run aground near land. He climbed to his feet and made his way to the deck. The sun was high overhead and winds blew gently off the open ocean. To his left was the island, or what he assumed was an island by how quickly the land curved out of sight to each side. In front of him, he saw the mouth to a small bay and how a sandbar protected its entrance, the one the Auriga now sat upon. He looked along the shoreline of the island wondering if it were inhabited. Then he looked at the mountain rising beyond the bay. The top was flat, much like some dead volcanoes he had seen over the years, and he wondered if it too were a dormant volcano. He looked at the lush vegetation covering it, then the trees that covered much of the island. He looked for any sign of human habitation and saw none. No smoke from fires, no structures, or some cutting back of the vegetation.

Charlies knew he needed to get ashore, for a ship run aground was a ship in danger of being torn apart in the next storm. He went below deck and started gathering all his belongings, then he raided the captain and crew quarters for additional clothing and provisions. He took knifes, machetes, and some other small tools, laying them out on the deck. He gathered the food that was still good, a couple of lanterns and canister of oil. Then he went to look at the row boats to see if either were salvageable.

The two large rowboats were damaged beyond repair, and Charles knew it was just as well for he could never get one over the side and into the water by himself. He went around to the skiff and was excited to see if looked undamaged. He rushed to it then stopped short when he saw there was a hole in the bottom. After standing by it feeling frustrated and hopeless, he took a breath and stooped down to the skiff to see what it would take to repair. There was one board busted through and he knew one of the large row boats had a board he could salvage for the repair.

It was dark by the time Charles had the board replaced and was smearing pitch over it. He went below deck to prepare something to eat and get some rest. He didn’t want to go ashore in the dark. He lay on his bed staring up into the darkness imagining what he might find once ashore. He imagined the animals. Exotic birds that would mimic his words, repeating them back to him. Tigers or large snakes that made the woods dangerous. Spiders or other insects that were poisonous. He thought of the butterflies he had seen in some ports, with their brightly colored wings and imagined butterflies even more exotic.

Then he let the realization set in that he would be alone. Truly, utterly alone. He had always felt alone on the ship, an outcast the others made disparaging remarks or treated as something that disgusted them. They knew what he did for the captain late at night. The nights he slipped into the captain’s quarters and did those things requested of him. The going to his knees and taking the captain’s cock in his mouth, then laying on his stomach to take the captain’s fuck. He didn’t feel ashamed by it. Instead, he wanted it more often, but his regret was how the captain was obviously just using him. He was never allowed to stay all night, snuggled up with the captain in his bed and the captain never treated him as someone who gave him pleasure. The men accepted the captain’s use of him for they deemed it just the captain getting rid of tension and satisfying an itch. But he was looked at with disgust for he was the one who sucked cock and lay on his stomach and let it penetrate him. He was the one who assumed a role not meant for a man.

Now he faced a different loneliness, and he suddenly felt a fear not felt before. He wondered what his chances were at being rescued, having no idea where the currents had taken the Auriga. He wasn’t sure if he was even still in the Indian Ocean.

Charles woke to the sound of waves crashing against the ship and on the nearby shore. He sat up, feeling hungry and still tired from lack of sleep. A good long stretch, then getting to his feet, he made his way to the deck to load up the skiff and get ashore. The sooner he got on shore, the more time he would have to find a suitable place to make camp and explore some of the island.

Using rope and tackle, he got the skiff over the side and secured. Then he lowered one bundle of items over after the next, until the skiff was loaded as much as he dared. There were still things on deck, and he made plans to come back and get them before day’s end.

The skiff took on water as Charles fought the waves heading to shore. By the time he was pulling the skiff up on the dark sand he was drenched. He unloaded his supplies taking them to the edge of the woods, then went exploring.

The ground rose slowly from the coastline, and the growth became denser, making passage through it nearly impossible. Eventually he found himself at the base of the mountain and climbed a short way up its rocky side until he was over the tree canopy and could look back at the ocean and the Auriga leaning toward starboard on the sandbar. The sandbar was clearly visible under the clear turquoise waters, and he saw how it arched out and around making any passage into the small bay by ship impossible. It was a stunningly beautiful sight, and one that spoke to a frightening isolation. Then he saw a porpoise jump out of the water, its grey and white body twisting in the air before crashing back into the water. Then he saw the dorsal fins of a shoal. Their numbers too great to count as they swam around the edge of the sand bar and on around the island. Once they were out of sight, he moved around the mountain, using the height to survey the ground below.

He hadn’t gone far when he came to a cave. It was wide and high at the mouth, and he could see into the main chamber easily. Some vine grew around the edge and a small pool lay in the middle of it, fed by water trickling down from the ceiling. It looked perfect, but he knew if a storm hit the island, it would not be enough protection. He eased inside and saw a passage in the back that went deeper into the mountain. It was low and narrow, and he knew he would have to crawl through if he were to explore it. It looked dangerous, with the spider web stretched over its entrance and the stillness and silence that seemed almost physical.

Back at the mouth of the cave, Charles saw the sun starting its slow descent. It was getting late, and he decided to use the cave for now, thinking he would search for a more protected place in the coming days. He headed back to the skiff to begin moving his belongings up. It took longer than he anticipated, his last trip taking until after sunset to make his way back to the cave. He built a fire at the cave’s entrance and prepared biscuits and salt pork. It required the least preparation and his fatigue made him ready to lay down for sleep.

Over the next few days, he went back to the ship not once, but three more times, getting anything that might be useful. He explored the island for as far as he dared, circling halfway around the mountain on the west side, then hiking the coastline to the east until he was facing the north at a cape. He always returned to the cave before sunset, building up a fire and preparing his main meal of the day. Then he would sit on a rock that jutted out from the side of the mountain just above the cave and watch the sun set in the west.

He kept wondering about the possibility of rescue, knowing the chances of a ship sailing close enough for him to capture their attention was nearly zero. He wondered about the means he had to attract someone’s attention, knowing nothing was better than a large fire that put out a lot of smoke. He wondered about the chances of one begin spotted and if one on top of the mountain would be visible to any passing ships. It was a fool’s gold, he knew, but he grew desperate as the days passed. No matter how he envisioned it, a fire on the top of the mountain would never be large enough, and he kept looking down on the sandbar at the Auriga. There was plenty of gunpowder in the magazine of the ship which would afford him the biggest fire, and with the ship offshore, there was no chance of setting the woods on fire. When to do it was the question, for he knew there would only be one chance to get someone attention. It was a gamble, a big one, on when to light up the Auriga, but it was a chance he planned to take the next afternoon.

Gunpowder was spread over the floors and deck. Charles wanted it to go off and burn, but he didn’t want a large explosion that would tear the ship apart before it had a chance to burn, putting smoke in the air. He poured some of the precious fuel oil for lanterns across the deck in an area without gunpowder, then let it run down the side near the skiff tied below. He wanted time to get to the shore before the gunpowder ignited.

In the skiff, he nervously lit the fuel oil and pushed off. Oars in hand, he rowed with speed and determination. He watched the flames race up the side of the ship and over the railing to the deck.  The flames burned low, slowly, and he kept an eye on it as he rowed. He was fighting the waves, almost on shore, when the gunpowder ignited on deck. It sent up a large cloud of smoke and put the entire deck into flames. Then smoke roiled out of the lower decks. Flames were soon licking at the sky and thick black smoke rose upward.

Charles smiled at how the fire burned, putting out so much smoke. He watched the smoke climb high into the sky, just knowing someone had to see it. There was no way a vessel nearby could miss it. It was just a matter of time before sails would be visible coming to investigate.

But three days passed, and no one came.

The storm clouds were on the horizon when Charles woke up. They lined the sky from the north to the south, just to his west. The dark, ominous clouds rolled upward into the highest reaches of the sky. He knew it was bad. He had seen similar storm fronts before and knew the violence of their high winds and lashing rains. He ran to the beach and pulled the skiff as far as he could into the edge of the woods and tied it between two trees. Then he raced back to the cave to prepare it for the storm.

He moved everything to the back of it, placing what he could up on rock ledges above the floor. As the wind picked up, then rain began to fall, he huddled up at the rear wall, wondering if he could endure the exposure. The cave was just too open at the front, and he knew it would allow the winds and rains to penetrate the space.

The sky darkened, the winds grew fierce, then the rains fell so heavily only the canopy of the nearest trees was visible. Beyond was just a solid greyness of rain. The floor of the cave soon became a pond. The water rose until it ran from the mouth of the cave. The winds drove the rain in wetting everything near the floor. Charles climbed up on a ledge wondering if he could hold himself in place long enough to let the storm pass. But as the winds grew worse, blowing his belongings from their ledges and around the cave, he knew he had to get somewhere with better protection.

Charles looked at the small passage, one he had dared not explore and knew it was now his best option. He worked his way down and waded to the passage. It was high enough to be out of the ponding water and small enough the wind and rain had only penetrated a short distance within. He looked around the cave one more time, seeing the destruction and chaos the storm was causing, then climbed into the passage on hands and knees and crawled into the darkness.

Charles was crawling blind, the dim light from the cave long since dissipated into nothing. He hit his head and realized the top of the passage was getting lower. He crawled forward, at first on knees and elbows, then on his stomach, shimming along the floor of the passage. Then it grew wider, the ceiling higher. He could crawl again, then after some distance, he was able to stand. With hands feeling along one wall, he kept moving forward. A change in the air, a very slight movement of it in the passage, then he smelled fresh air. Air that had the scent of plant life and open sky, and maybe even water. A turn, then another, and another and a light appeared in front of him. He moved toward it, like a moth to the flame, until he realized it was an opening to the exterior. He was confused as to its brightness. It appeared as if it were a sunny day. It should be dark, and stormy, with lashing rain and strong wind. He felt anxious, fearful of what lay ahead, but his curiosity outweighed it, and he kept moving toward the light.

He saw a bright clear light, then vegetation, then the blue sky beyond. He came to the mouth of the cave and stood in awe at the landscape that spread out before him. A lush forest and to his side a waterfall that cascaded down the mountain to a pool, then into a river and he knew it eventually would flow into the ocean.

Beyond the forest, he could see the vast ocean but there was something about it that was wrong. The waters were greener, and clear beyond imagination. He could see the bottom far out toward the horizon and within the waters, vast schools of fish. A flock of birds flew by, close to the mountain, and he saw their flaming red feathers and tails of blue, turquoise, and green. A bright purple bird landed nearby. It pecked at the ground with its vivid yellow beak, then fluttered into the woods. The sun was high in the sky and to the east, a moon with rings hovered above the horizon. He was dumbfounded, for no such moon existed. He wondered about his own state of mind. Was he hallucinating?

To his left a path stepped down the side of the mountain, and he followed it too amazed by what he saw to give concern about where it led.

At the base of the mountain, he moved into the woods. It was like the forest he had seen in the region south of the Georgia colony in the Americas. Trees spaced far apart, the canopy shading the ground until only a low mat of vegetation grew. He walked along paths he assumed were made by animals, then he followed a spring, walking along its sandy bottom. He watched for snakes but only saw lizards, frogs, and a small furry creature that hid before he got a good look at it. Near the spring, red, orange, and yellow mushrooms had sprouted from the ground in circular patterns. It wasn’t the color that surprised him, but their size. The largest towered over his head.

The sun was low in the sky when he came to the edge of the woods and saw a marshland stretch out before him. Grasses grew twice his height, and flowering plants lined the edge of the water, their yellow blooms seeming to glow in the late day sun. He made his way around the marsh, keeping to a path always fearful of what creatures may lurk in the shallow waters. He came to a crude bridge, the wood timbers tied together with rope. It gave him hope, for it was a sign he was not alone. He followed the path to a spit of solid ground that weaved across the marsh until it came to a coastal environment with towering sand dunes covered in what looked like oversized dandelions, their blooms larger than a sunflower. He saw one open and as the wind picked up, the seed lifted away from the plant and sailed through the air. He climbed a dune and stood on top seeing the ocean spread out before him. To his right, he saw low stunted trees growing near the shoreline and amongst them, what looked like a large treehouse. Then he saw the light, a small candle flame, and down below the treehouse, the smoke of a fire rising out of the trees. Someone was there, and he stumbled, then fell, as he rushed down the dune to the shore. He ran down the wet sand, heaving for breath and legs burning from his exertions.

Charles ran to a point straight out from the treehouse where he could stand on the shore and scan it for who was living there. He saw the footprints in the dry sand above the crashing waves, and how they led to a break in the trees. Should he call out, or sneak in, Charles asked himself. He was so excited by the prospect of another, he felt the pounding of blood in this temples and racing heart in his chest. It was beginning to get too dark to see and it made him feel desperate. He eased up the beach to the trees, hesitating to enter, but he took a deep breath and continued onward. After going a short distance, the fire on the ground became visible, along with the smell of fish cooking over it. His stomach growled as he fought the urge to charge ahead recklessly.

One slow measured step after the next, Charles made his way to the edge of the clearing with the fire at its center. A crude ladder was nailed to the trunk of the largest tree where it led to the treehouse. It appeared to be one small room with a deck on the ocean side. There was no movement inside it, just the flame of a single candle sitting on a crude low table. He scanned the clearing, then found his eyes locked on the fish hung to one side of the flames. He saw the skin browning and smelled the cooking flesh. Then he felt a touch on his left shoulder, and he froze.

“Who…are you?” a male voice asked from behind.

“I’m Charles…Charles Kenwyn. I’m just a cabin boy from the Auriga.”

“Never heard of the Auriga, but you speak English?”

“As, do you?”

“I’m from Liverpool.”

“Liverpool!” Charles exclaimed, turning to face the person behind him. He froze, shocked by what he saw. He was young, about his own age, but leaner in build. He held a long pole, with the end sharpened to a point and was using it in a defensive manner. But the two things he noticed first was the blue tint to his skin and the vivid red hair, then the fact the guy was naked. He tried not to do it, but he stared at the flaccid cock hanging heavily over its sac and he compared it to the captain’s cock, one smaller and less impressive. “How can you be from…you’re blue.”

“I became this way after living here for a while.”

“How long?”

“I’m not sure. What is the date?”

“I’m not sure of the exact date. All I know is it is 1874.”

The guy lowered the pole, letting the tip rest on the ground as he stared open-mouthed at Charles.

“That can’t be.”

“How long have you been here?”

“We set sail from India for the far East on September 21st, in the year…1645.”

Charles laughed, knowing the guy had to be pulling his leg. Then he noticed the guy was turning pale, a lighter blue until almost white.

“You’re serious?” asked Charles.

“It can’t be…but…”

“You’ve been here for over a hundred years?”

“It seemed like a long time, but…”

Charles saw the anguish, the shock of it, as the guy walked past him, no longer worried if he would attack him. He watched him go to a log by the fire and sit down, staring at the flames. It didn’t make sense and he wondered if the guy got the year wrong. But he sensed now was the not the time to press the issue, for there was much to discern. The guy’s appearance and nudity still provoked him. He walked to opposite side of the fire and looked over the flames.

“I didn’t get your name,” said Charles.

The guy looked up as if suddenly remembering Charles was there. “I’m Oliver. Oliver St Levan.”

“Did you come through a tunnel to get here?”

“Yes, and once you go through, you can’t go back,” Oliver replied in a flat tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve tried numerous times, but the cave is closed off from this side. You can’t go back.”

“I’m…we’re stuck here?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Charles uttered as he dropped down on the sand. He looked up and saw Oliver staring at him.

“Are you hungry?” asked Oliver.

“Very much so. There was a storm and…I’ve not had anything in some time.”

“Join me then. Let’s eat for the fish are done.”

Charles listened to Oliver talk of his life. The storm that tossed the Good Hope till it nearly sank. How part of the crew went overboard, and the days that followed, low on food and water and just drifting at sea, the remaining crew became sick and died one by one until Oliver was alone. A few days later, the ship taking on water, drifted near the island. Oliver took a rowboat and headed toward the island, looking back a few times watching the Good Hope sink.

He had set up camp in the cave and after a few days let his curiosity get the better of him and went exploring the tunnel that cut through the mountain, finding himself in this new place.

“Charles, this isn’t our world. Did you see the moons?”

“Moons?”

Oliver pointed to the east and Charles saw two moons just above the trees.

“But I saw the moon before sunset.”

“The one with the rings. Yes, it is never visible when those two are in the sky.”

“But…we just went through a mountain.”

“And into another place. I know.”

“And your blue…and naked.”

Charles brought it up, unable to stay silent. He wanted to know why Oliver was so unabashed about it.

“Oh, yeah. I guess it is unsettling, but when my clothes fell apart, I couldn’t make anything that I could wear. I tried leaves and weaving and none of it work. Everything was rough against my skin and wouldn’t stay up.”

“So, you just went without?”

“Yes. And my skin changed after a month or so. I think it is the blue fruit, but it could be the red mushrooms. Oh, don’t eat the yellow mushrooms. They’ll make you sick as a dog, and the orange ones will make you see things,” said Oliver, shuddering at the memory of his experimentation of them.

“I saw the mushrooms, but a blue fruit?”

“I’ll show you tomorrow. We can go exploring and I’ll show you everything you’ll need to know.”

Charles lay on the mat looking over at the moonlit body laying less than an arm’s length away. Its slow rise and fall from the steady breathing while asleep. The lean, muscular structure of the body, and how it seemed to glow in the silvery moonlight. Then his eyes went to the cock. The way it lay to the side and seemed longer and thicker. He imagined touching it, letting it fill his hand, then his mouth. He never felt this way with the captain, who just used him for his own pleasure.

He lay on his side, staring at Oliver while processing all he had learned about this strange place. Nothing made sense. But he couldn’t deny what he had seen. Or could he? He wondered about all the unusual life in this environment and if something was making him hallucinate. After eating, Oliver had talked at length about his life. The way he speared fish, watched what animals ate to know what he could safely consume, his experimentation with the orange mushrooms waking up a day later feverish, and how there were a stand of trees that released a mist under their canopy and to walk in it was to feel yourself grow calm and relaxed. Charles had stopped questioning it, for to so was to question his own sanity.

But it wasn’t the oddness of his surroundings that made him the most anxious. It was Oliver. He wondered if their isolation would open the door for something to happen between them. He told of being a captain’s boy, hinting at the things required of him. Oliver told of being a priest’s assistance, and how he hated working for the old hypocrite, as he referred to the priest. It seemed they had endured much the same in their previous world.

The sun was beginning its ascent to the east and the ringed moon was in the northern horizon when Charles found himself standing on the shore watching Oliver wade out.

“Come on, Charles, the water is cool. You can leave your clothes on if you’re shy,” taunted Oliver.

Charles watched Oliver go further and further until the water was up to his stomach, then Oliver dove beneath the surface. The water was too clear, and he could see the blue body move fluidly. Arm and legs moving rhythmically propelling Oliver further out. He wanted to be out there, with Oliver. He wanted to swim in the cool waters with him. He removed his shirt, then pants and underwear. It was the first time he was naked out in the open. He felt it, an arousal never felt before. His cock stirred and he was tempted to touch it, to tug on it, maybe even get it hard. Oliver surfaced and waved, and he waded out, drawn to the blue body in the cool waters.

Charles swam to Oliver then tried to keep up, getting left behind each time. Oliver was too fast, his movements perfect. Eventually they were back in shallower waters where it came up to their waists. He saw Oliver’s cock, thick and elongated, then he saw his own in the same state. Looking up he saw Oliver looking down. Did he feel the same? Charles wondered. He watched Oliver step closer, then move a hand toward his cock. He watched it draw near while holding his breath. Please don’t stop he thought as the hand was nearly touching him. Then it was touching him. Fingers rubbing the head then the hand encircling the shaft, slowly stroking him.

“You can touch me…if you want?” whispered Oliver.

Charles woke from the spell he was in. He blinked then reached out to Oliver wanting to feel him within his hand. He grew aroused, his cock getting rock hard as he stroked Oliver to the same state.

“You want to go back to the tree house?” whispered Oliver.

“Yes.”

Charles lay on his back, eye closed, feeling Oliver take him with his mouth. He shuddered with feel of it, this new sensation, something the captain never did for him. The tongue raking over the head and the lips that moved up and down the shaft. He cried out, then moaned while trying not to shove upward. He clutched at the grass mat, then hammered his fist against the floor. The bamboo like floor structure vibrated and creaked beneath him.

Fingers dug into his sac, tugged on it, and worked the nuts around within it. Charles moved his feet to raise his knees, then spread them to give Oliver more room to manipulate him. It didn’t take long, and a finger trailed down below his sac, rubbing the sensitive skin, then over his opening. He moaned as the finger circled his opening and he shivered when it penetrated him. He felt the slow push inward as Oliver pushed down on his cock.

“Oliver,” Charles uttered breathlessly. “Don’t stop…”

Two fingers penetrated him, and he felt the familiar stretch of his opening. It felt the same as the captain’s cock. He knew he needed to be stretched much more for Oliver’s.

Oliver slipped his fingers free, and Charles felt an emptiness he had not felt before. He wanted to be penetrated. To feel Oliver inside him, even if it were just three fingers. As hands took him behind each knee, he knew he would soon fill a fullness of penetration. Knees pushed up, then out, Charles watched Oliver move between them. He felt a touch, then the drag of leaking cock along his ass. Oliver moved closer and cock pushed at his opening.

“Do it…” Charles whispered.

Charles lay back watching the determined look on Oliver’s face. Then he felt the insistent push against his tightness. He pushed toward it and felt himself open to Oliver. He stretched to take him and soon felt the fullness of penetration as Oliver sank into his depths.

Charles felt Oliver against his body. The heat of it against his bare skin and it felt so alive. He thought he feltl the blood pumping within it. Then there was the fullness of the penetration. How it felt like Oliver was touching the center of his being. He lay back, eyes closed, accepting it, wanting it more than he could give expression.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Oliver,” Charles uttered as he ran his hands along the side of Oliver’s body feeling its heat and heavy breathing.

The cock pulled outward, slowly, letting him sense every inch as it tugged at his opening. It left him feeling empty. Then it was pushing back inside him. It bore into his body giving him a sexual connection to Oliver he didn’t understand. But he felt it.

After what seemed a long time, Oliver began to fuck, to drive into Charles’ depths, over and over, until their bodies were smacking together.

“OH…oh…fuck...” Charles uttered as he stretched out, arched his back, and pushed to take every thrust.

Oliver’s pace increased and Charles moaned and grunted as he took it. Every thrust. He was loosened to the cock that hammered his depths, savoring the feel of its quick inward and outward tug at his opening. It bore into his depths as hips smacked against his ass. The room echoed with the sound of their fuck, and it spurred Oliver to fuck harder.

Charles took his own cock and stroked in pace with Oliver’s fuck. His hand was quickly wet and slick and he shivered at the feel of it rubbing over the sensitive head. As cock piston inside him, he stroked it. Then he felt the surge of release. He opened his eyes and pushed upward with is hips and came. A thick rope of cum hit him in the face, then the neck. He shuddered with the release as his opening spasm around Oliver’s cock thrusting into his depths. He kept coming with wads raining down on his chest and stomach. He slammed his fist down his cock with each release until the last of the cum dribbled out. He continued to stroke his spent cock, smearing the last cum over it. It kept him hard: rock hard.

“Don’t stop; keep fucking,” Charles exclaimed.

Oliver didn’t stop, couldn’t if he wanted. He was too close, right at the edge of release, and he hammered his cock in Charles’ depths, jamming his hips against the upturned ass. He tried to push deeper, tried to bore into the center of Charles’ body. Then he too came. Hard. He jerked and shuddered with each ejaculation as he filled Charles’ hole.

Then Oliver was spent lying on top of Charles. He was heaving for breath, and both were aware of their overheated bodies. The slick sweaty contact between them and how each torso undulated with their heavy breathing. Charles was still hard, his cock pinned between them, and he wanted more. He rolled Oliver to his back and straddled him. He moved up and down, slowly at first renewing Oliver’s arousal. He felt how the cock inside him was still hard, then he felt fingers digging into each thigh. The desperation of the grasps fueled his own needs. He moved faster and faster until the floor squeaked beneath them. He rode Oliver with a roughness and physicality that made it feel as if cock were sinking to a place near his heart. His own bounced off Oliver’s stomach, smacking wetly each time. As he fucked himself on Oliver’s thick hard cock, his own raised up between his thighs. It was the hardest he had ever been. It drooled pools of precum on Oliver’s stomach as he moved his ass up and down. It made him breathless and aware of his sex in a manner that was new to him.

Oliver’s grip on his thighs tightened, then he was bucked upward, once, twice, then three times, as Oliver grunted with release. He felt the slickness of the cock in his hole as he moved on it, now lubed with cum. A hand took his own cock, stroking the shaft and toying with the slick head. He shuddered with the manipulation, then jerked and shook as he felt the surge of his second release. He slammed down on Oliver’s cock and jerked his hips forward. Then he sprayed cum over Oliver’s chest and stomach.

Charles lay against Oliver, who was leaned against one of the trees protruding through the floor. They had settled down, both breathing normally. Charles was raking a finger through the cum on his stomach trying to find the words for a question he desperately wanted to ask. He feared the answer and nearly gave up on asking. But he had to know.

“Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not ashamed by what we did, are you?”

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

“Because it’s…”

“What? Wrong? A sin? Do you really believe that? And here, in this place, do you think it matters what anyone back there would think?”

“I guess not.”

“You guess? No, Charles, listen to me. I wanted to do it and I know you did too. It made us feel good and brought us closer together. Or I hope it did.”

“It did.”

“Look around you. Do you think this place cares if two guys fuck?”

“No,” Charles replied, grinning at the way Oliver asked the question. The coarseness of it; this bluntness no one back on the other side would dare say aloud, not about two guys having sex.

“Come on, let’s go swimming to wash off,” said Oliver, giving Charles a little push to get him to stand.

They swam until their exhausted bodies couldn’t take any more exertion. Oliver took Charles by the hand and led him up the beach back to the treehouse. Over the days that followed, they would fall into a routine. One so simple and carefree. They gathered fruit and nuts, speared fish and hunted eggs. They had sex whenever the mood struck them. Early morning, while in the ocean or back at the treehouse with bodies still dripping wet. There was sex before dinner or after, and during the middle of the night, there was the most intimate sex between them.

After stripping off his clothes on the beach back on that second day in this new place, Charles never put clothes on again. He ran naked, like Oliver, and after a short time noticed his skin was taking on the same blue hue as Oliver.

Another Time - Another Place

The exploration vessel was anchored off the coast just out from the mouth of a small bay. It had been there for days, divers going down at regular intervals, exploring a wreck from the 1600’s. It was a small crew, fifteen men and women who sought the thrill of discovering something lost, lost for so long most didn’t know it ever existed. Among the crew were two young men, both straight out of college and on their first mission in the field.  Dean Mitchell had finished at Stanford last year and spent his first year doing office work, cleaning and filing artifacts. He was smart, meticulous, and focused, and soon captured the eye of Dr. Oberfeld, who was one to lead field explorations for undersea sites. Dean was also openly gay, participating in charities that served the community. Emilio Diaz Rodriguez studied four years at Universitat Rovira i Virgili, then transferred to Stanford to complete his studies. It was also where he met Dean and within two semesters they were living together. Emilio was as studious as Dean, but more daring in seeking answers. Together they made a good team, albeit one that still had a lot to learn in the field.

It was Emilio who found it, the burned and decayed bottom section of another ship, one closer to the mouth of the bay. Dating showed the ship to be from the 1700’s and Dean set out to try to figure out which vessel that had gone missing in that time, could be the wreck. Dr. Oberfeld was excited, for to find two wrecks so close together and from different time periods was a stroke of luck he never could imagine. He put one of the veterans with Dean and Emilio while keeping the remainder of the crew focused on the original wreck.

They worked tirelessly for days, uncovering more and more of each ship, and bringing up artifacts discovered within and around them.

They had four days left before needing to head to Singapore to refuel and restock. From there they would journey to Brisbane, Australia where their vessel would be docked, and they would fly back to the states. That evening, like most before, they cooked out on the beach within the bay and slept in tents at the tree line for it was more comfortable than the cramped quarters on the ship. For Dean and Emilio, it gave them the ability to set up some distance away affording them privacy the ship never gave them.

Sitting around the fire, appetites sated, they drank beer and talked of their findings and how far along they were in uncovering the wrecks. It was getting late when Dr. Oberfeld, then the others began to call it a night. Dean motioned Emilio to follow him, and he led him into the woods. No longer able to see by the fire or the moonlight, the used flashlights to follow natural breaks in the vegetation.

“Where are we going?” asked Emilio.

“Up to the base of the mountain. I found a cave before dinner, and I want to take a look inside and this will be the only time we have to do so.”

“We can’t explore a cave in the middle of the night.”

“It’s a shallow cave and I just want to have a look around.”

Emilio followed Dean up the side of the mountain, climbing to an elevation that let them see over the trees. The ocean was dark, making the lights of the ship stand out in sharp contrast.

“Come on, it’s just a bit further up,” said Dean.

A short hike higher and the two guys stood at the wide high mouth of a shallow cave. The inside walls showed wear from water and there was a clear pool in the middle of the floor. They worked their way around the pool, along the right side to the back. Dean kept stopping to look at the tiny fish and crab that lived in the pool, and Emilio moved past. A few meters along, Emilio saw an opening in the back wall.

“Hey, the cave cuts into the mountain,” said Emilio.

“How deep?” asked Dean as he moved next to Emilio.

“Too far for the flashlight.”

“Let’s check it out.”

“Now?”’

“Why not? It’s a cave so whether, or not it is day or night doesn’t matter. Come on,” said Dean as he got on his hands and knees and entered the cave.

Emilio followed, and together they were bolder, more daring, and they kept going even when the cave got so tight, they had to slide along on their stomachs. After a while, the cave began to open up, the ceiling rise enough that they could stand up right, and after a short distance, widened to allow them to walk side by side.

A bright light appeared before them and soon realized it was an opening to outside. But it couldn’t be for it was the middle of night. As they drew near, it was obvious they were looking at a blue sky with a few clouds drifting by.

“This isn’t right,” Emilio uttered as they slowed, almost afraid to leave the cave.

“Could we have been in that cave long enough for it get morning?”

“No.”

At the opening, they stepped out to a scene that was similar to the other side. A cave part way up a mountain that overlooked the woods between the mountain’s base and a beach. And beyond the turquoise waters of the ocean. But almost as quickly they realized the differences, differences so vast it took their breath away. The sun to the west was smaller, appeared further away and its color was slightly different. To the east, a moon with rings hovered above the horizon.

“Fuck, where are we?” asked Dean.

“Look,” exclaimed Emilio pointing at the woods near the beach.

Dean saw it, a man-made structure jutting out of the canopy of the trees, and close to it, smoke from a campfire. The thin trail of smoke rose above the trees and quickly dissipated. Out from the structure and smoke, they saw two people splashing around in the ocean. From their height and distance, they could make nothing out about them, for they were tiny objects that disturbed a calm ocean.

“Let’s go and see if they can tell us something,” said Emilio.

Dean came up next to Emilio at the edge of the woods. They had kept some distance between them and the structure but were close enough to see the two guys frolicking in the ocean. First, they noticed both had blue tinted skin, then they realized both were naked. They watched as the two guys wrestled with each other, laughing loudly as they did so, then stopped and kissed.

“Fuck me,” Dean uttered, as they watched them kiss then wade out holding hands.

The two guys walked across the sand and disappeared into the woods to their right heading toward the structure.

“What do we do?” asked Dean.

“I think we should wait for them to get in camp and dressed, then approach them.”

Sitting on the ground, they waited, looking out at the ocean then into the woods whenever there was a strange sound. How long passed, neither could tell, but they got up and looked down the beach to make sure the guys had not headed back out.

“The coast is clear,” whispered Emilio.

“Is it?” came an unfamiliar voice from behind them and they turned slowly to see the two guys standing only a couple meters away.

“We have visitors,” one of them said to the other.

For a moment Dean and Emilio were tongue tied. Before them stood the two guys, their blue tinted bodies on full display, including their cocks that hung heavily over their sacs. They looked despite knowing they shouldn’t until they heard one giggle.

“Who are you? Where is this place?” Emilio finally asked.

“I’m Oliver and this is Charles and…”

“What this place is we have no idea, other than it is paradise,” said Charles.

“You speak English, and your names are…”’

“Like yours? Did you come through the cave?” asked Oliver.

“Yes,” Emilio uttered.

“And it closed up behind you?” asked Charles.

“Yes…how did you know?” replied Dean.

“It happened to you; you came from the other side too,” said Emilio, realizing the situation.

“But their blue,” said Dean.

“We turned this color after being here for a while.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Emilio, thinking months, maybe even weeks, for both looked early twenties, if that old.

“I arrived in 1784 and he arrived in 1645. What year is it now?” asked Charles.

“That is impossible,” exclaimed Dean.

“It’s 2021,” Emilio uttered, doing the math in his head. “You’ve been here 237 years,” looking at Charles, “and you’ve been here, Jesus, 376 years,” turning to Oliver.

“No way,” Dean uttered.

“Wait a minute,” exclaimed Emilio. “Did you end up here after a shipwreck?”

“Yes,” Oliver replied. “My ship went down just out from the mouth of the bay.”

“And mine went down near the mouth, getting grounded on a sandbar.”

“Dean looked at Charles. “What happened to your ship after it ran aground?”

“I burned it in an attempt to draw someone’s attention, but I’m afraid this island is far from any shipping routes,” Charles replied.

Emilio looked at Dean and they knew the wreck they found was the one Charles had been on.

“Did you get shipwrecked?” asked Oliver.

“No, we were doing an excavation of two shipwrecks, your wrecks from the sound of it, and we…” Emilio stammered to a stop.

“We went to the cave to explore it tonight…I mean…it was night when we entered.”

“Well, you’re stuck here now. Come on with us and we’ll see if we can help you get set up,” said Charles, taking off toward the treehouse.

Dean and Emilio followed them, watching the round asses move with their stride.

“Why are you naked?”

“Making clothing is a bitch, so we don’t bother,” Oliver replied without looking back.

“You’ll soon be naked too,” Charles added.

“And blue,” added Oliver.