About Bys Vyken
by Syd McGinley
33 pages
/ 13000 words
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Jack saves Nehemiah from drowning, or worse, on the Cornish coast, surprised to find he has an American in his midst. He's also afraid that his fellow villagers will kill Nehemiah rather than look at him, all for the peridot ring on his finger. He takes Nehemiah in, sharing his home, and eventually his secrets.
Pressed into the navy, Nehemiah is lost at sea, and lost for words when Jack pretends to rob him when he washes up on shore. Close quarters makes for close companions, though, and his growing feelings for Jack make it hard for Nehemiah to return home when he has the chance. Can they find a way to stay afloat?
Sample
“Not long before the fighting and fucking starts,” muttered Jack. “Be dark soon, and you can crawl up the beach.”
“Half-naked and shoeless!”
“Tregarthen! You buggering that body, you uthek hogh?”
“Fuck! Polwhele seen us. Don’t resist. I need to look as if I’m stealing your ring.”
Jack saw the hesitation in the sailor’s eyes as Jack started tugging on the gold ring. As it turned, a green gem appeared. The sailor had tucked the stone into his palm to protect and hide it.
“Don’t struggle. It’s your life at stake.”
Jack playacted wrenching off the ring and cast a look over his shoulder. Having got his cheap laugh, Polwhele turned back to the brandy.
“Lie still. I’ll be back in a few minutes. It’s nearly dark enough for their eyes to be spoiled by the fire. I’ll guide you away and return your ring.”
Jack cursed himself as soon as he said that, but the look of despair and loss in the sailor’s eyes as he took his ring had prompted his promised. And Jack was a man of his word. Even Polwhele knew that.
Jack swaggered back into the firelight and made sure to be seen taking gulps of brandy and even tolerating a kiss and grope from Tess who was cozying up to all the men who had no woman on the spot. He bore the crowd until he could see only shadows when he looked outward along the beach. The villagers and Tess’ mocking attentions were hard to bear at the best of times, but with the aural backdrop of the creaking, rending timbers and the occasional wail from the masts, he wanted to run. The flaring light and flying sparks made even the most peaceful of visages look distorted, and Polwhele looked demonic as he cavorted around with his hands on Tess’ naked bosom.
He waited until Tess and Polwhele tumbled to the ground together and then stepped back out of the circle of light. His human flotsam was still there, sprawled on his back, staring at the starry sky. No one else had washed up. Jack was grimly thankful that the doomed crew and passengers had at least been spared the cruelty of being massacred in the surf.
“Walk with me. Stay right behind me so we seem one shadow if they look. We’re going to walk the edge of the water so no one even sees two pairs of prints leaving and the waterline will guide us around the curve of the bay. Drunk as they’ll be, I still dare not risk any of them thinking I left with a man. There’s a path up the cliff there that I know well enough. It’s not steep -- more like hill there -- so we can walk, not climb.”
Jack set off without looking behind him. A few muffled curses and extra splashes were enough to know he was being obeyed. As they came close to the outcropping of rocks that marked the place to turn, Jack paused and let him catch up. He caught at his tattered shirt sleeve. “Let me hold this to guide you up the hill. I’ll point you in the right direction to walk to a town far enough inland to be safe. When we get to the top and can see the village lights, we’ll be clear of danger. Everyone’s on the beach.”
The sailor snorted. “We’re in danger?”