'The Passionate Deceit'

The Chronicles of Lieutenant Duncan Windfall of his Majesty ship the 'Lark Hawk' (1805)

Prelude

Lieutenant Duncan Windfall was a dashing young 1st Lieutenant on his majesty's warship 'The Lark Hawk' with the East Indies fleet, tasked with the responsibilities of keeping the region safe of Pirates and Brigands.

His love was for the blind Governor's daughter, who had tragically lost her eye sight in a piano recital accident at the tender age of nine. They had met by chance as the young lieutenant was one evening taking a short cut through the grounds of government house after an unsuccessful secret cockle buying mission.

It was for him, love at first sight (though not necessarily for her on account of her blindness). But on having heard of her reputation for liking 'bad' boys, he had decided to masquerade as a Pirate. Calling himself 'Duncan Devilish' of the band of the Straightened Clawed Hand.

Thus they would meet most evenings, but never embrace for Duncan feared her heightened sense of touch might portray the fact he was indeed wearing the King's uniform and he also tried the best he could to stay upwind of her in case her fine sense of smell detected the whiff of his imperial leather mixed with the fragrance of Old Spice, a dead give away he was a British naval officer.

Chapter 1
(The Dinner before the Storm)

He ran a firm hand down the pleat of the dress, feeling the fine, delicate embroidery entwined in the soft silk. That and the heavy scent of lavender made him feel light headed, his mind becoming intoxicated with erotic thoughts.

Suddenly there was a series of rapid knocks on his cabin door. Windfall quickly slipped off the white lace dress, threw on his officer's uniform and replied in a stern voice.

"What is it? I thought I said I was not to be disturbed"

An apologetic voice replied

"Begging your pardon Sir, but you said to come and get you if the Captain's condition changes at all".

Windfall quickly put on his hat and hurried to the Captain's cabin. There, surrounding the ill Captain was the doctor, Leslie the cabin boy and the Count Vitso Frisky of Milan, a Swiss born aristocrat married to the Late Lady Belmont of upper Sea on Tyne who was now a guest on the ship as well as being his majesty ambassador to the Greek Court of Constance XXIII of the Holy Roman Empire, holder of the clustered leafed palm of Latvia, honoree colonel in the Hanover Royal mounted Hussars, the toast of Danzig High Society and the close childhood friend of Lieutenant Windfall.

As he entered the cabin he was greeted by a very quiet silence and the doctor solemnly stood up, then taking the young lieutenant to one side, he spoke in a hushed voice.

"I fear the worst..... the native with the sharpened Mango did more damage than was first thought"

The doctor turned away for a moment, looking out of the porthole and muttered, almost distracted

"And the heavily peppered parsnip soup we had for lunch did not help......"

His words trailed off, tinged with more than a hint of despair. Windfall nodded his understanding of the situation. He stepped forward, then kneeling down, and gently held the hand of his old friend the Captain and softly whispered in his ear.

"Captain, it is I Windfall...."

The Captain stirred in his bed, his eyes opened and with a flicker of recognition he smiled.

"Duncan...... my lad how does the ship sail? Have you remembered to turn her into the wind?"

Duncan gently smiled back.

"Of course Sir, we are making good head way and should be in Venice by morning."

At this the Captain seemed pleased and with a satisfied grin on his face fell back into a restful slumber.

Lieutenant Windfall spent the rest of the morning busying himself with ship's business, but never the less his mind was constantly brought back to his true love. Everything he did reminded him of her, the sea resembled her sapphire colored eyes, the wind seemed to whisper her name, the twin sails filled and bellowed like her ripe, young breasts and 'Lucky' the ship's pussy reminded him of...... her feline like grace.

A distinct cough from behind him, like a mountain lion mauling a day old corpse, dragging him away from these thoughts, for it was Petty Officer Byyourleave. His trusted first mate.

"Begging your pardon Sir, but...."

Instinctively he caught the glint of urgency in the grizzled old sea dog eyes and knew straightaway what he must do. Quickly he barked out a succession of orders;

"Cut the main rig" He barked out with authority "Trim the sails, tack left by south west, call the men to general quarters, roll out the broadside and muzzle for high explosive shot....."

Men dived out of their bunks and the decks were awash with frantic activity as the ship prepared for engagement. During all this the Petty Officer look grew increasingly sheepish.

Finally in a meek voice he almost whispered.

"Actually Sir..... I had just come to inform you that lunch is ready.... and.... well, I know how much you like to bang the gong....."

The Petty Officer, eyes now firmly fixed on his feet, thrust out a hand holding the ceremonial gong. Shortly after, amidst the anarchy of a well drilled ship's crew preparing to do combat, the stirring echoing of a rasping brass plated gong could be heard summoning the officers and guest to the dinner table as the bewildered crew tried to engage an enemy who were simply not there and without the guidance of their leaders looked increasingly confused.

Dinner was as always on one of her majesty's ship on active service at sea was an informal affair, a mere 6 courses and the necessary, yet harsh reality of no individual butter knifes. The meal was up to chef's normal high quality, though Windfall could not help feel a twinge of disappointment that the jelly trifle replica of St. Paul's Catherdal used sliced cherries for windows, when raspberries might have been more appropriate on such an important religious building.

Count Vitso Frisky was in particular fine spirit, regaling the assembled officers with a rather amusing story of an amorous young nobleman who mistook a pair of peaches and a tub of Devonshire clotted cream for something more delightful. By the time the meal was completed and the silverware cleared away, 2 hours had past and the sun was now at its highest point in the sky. The crew had long ago wandered off from their battle stations and had returned to their mid-day slumber in various shaded parts of the ship.

This most peaceful calm was rudely interrupted by a succession of loud booming noises that were quickly followed by the sound of splintering wood as cannonballs rained down onto the Lark Hawk's deck.....
Chapter 2
(Combat and a wet finish)

Much to the shock of the napping sailors and the officers who were enjoying an after dinner sherry on the poop deck, a pair of French galleons had, unobserved, sneaked up on them and had let rip a devastating broadside against the Lark Hawk at virtually point blank range.

The effect was instantly devastating as the cannon balls ripped into timber and flesh alike. Pure carnage was all around, shattered bodies and wrecked sails laid side by side. A heavily wounded Petty Officer Byyourleave, blood pouring freely from a messy head wound staggered up to the young lieutenant and then promptly stood rigidly to attention.

"Sir..... I have to report"

The Petty Officer spoke through grinding teeth as the pain threatened to overcome him. His voice starting to falter

"....that.....that"

Lieutenant Windfall knew instinctively what to do, which is a pity, as it was totally the wrong thing to do yet again. Grabbing the gong stick, he vigoursly struck the gong for dinner repeatedly throughout the short lived battle and was some what surprised that it was never served.

Alas with their captain ill below decks, and the 2nd in command fixated on calling the officers to the dining table, the inevitable happened and the noble ship 'Lark Hawk' was promptly sank, with most of her crew going down with her including a group of bewildered officers sat at the dinner table, napkins neatly tucked around their necks, waiting for starters that were never to arrive.

Therefore Lieutenant Duncan Windfall of the British Royal Navy found himself in the ignoble position of having to cling to a chuck of drift wood (formerly part of the forward bow of the HMS Lark Hawk) along with Count Vitso Frisky, a seaman of the lower ranks called Perkins, Edwards the ships Quartermaster and the 2nd cook who was well renowned for having a unhealthy fetish for extra moist pasta.

After the ambush by the pair of French Galleons, the sea cruelly tossed them around for several days, a fact the 2nd cook seemed to enjoy immensely, until finally they were washed a shore deep behind enemy territory.

Realising their situation was most dire, it was decided that tough times called for drastic measures, the changing of underwear was cut to every other day and the flogging of the lower ranks was regrettably curtailed to be done just purely for officer's morale.

After some minor mishaps and a short adventure involving a insolvant Cobbler, they managed to acquire some disguises and dressed as freelance Spanish milking maids, they then headed north towards the French coast. It was on these travels that Windfall found out that billowing petticoat frills and the stout legs of a sailor were ill suited. But he did also discover from milking the milky white breasts of the cows of the local herds that he did indeed have a knack for the subtle art of milk extraction and in a thrilling competition with the local maidens, nearly won the free style teat tugging regional championship, and the much coveted toffee hammer trophy that would have come with that victory.

Still a hundred miles from home and desperately short of replacement whale bones for their corsets, the group spirits were at a low ebb. Lt Windfall was amusing Perkins or 'Gabrielle' as he now likes to be called, with one of his lesser stories from the recent milking competition, the one about the butter churning, a pair of loose baggy trousers and a small mammal that was nocturnal by nature.

When suddenly they came across a small French military Schooner anchored in a secluded bay that was only lightly guarded with all its crew in nearby Bordeaux on day leave. At once Lt Windfall came up with a cunning and daring plan. An hour later, emerging from the back of a hay filled wagon they had successfully skirted unseen around the napping guards and were a mile closer to getting home!

As night fell they ate the last of their meager rations; a rat lightly coated in a nutmeg and mustard sauce with a selection of in-season vegetables and a mixed berry flan topped with poached pears. It was at this stage, that the unexpected happened........

Chapter 3
(Love is both a word and a letter)

The problem with Napoleon was not so much that he was trying to subjugate the whole of Europe under his harsh and dictatorial rule, for this was to be done nearly 200 years later in a much less democratic and more brutal fashion by another power hungry entity that went by the name of the 'European Union', it was the simple fact that he was French.

It was an undeniable and perverse truth that he was French by birth, French by nature and French in manner, he even spoke the language fluently. Therefore to the British and the rest of the civilized world (this could include the Dutch depending on your view point), he was the European equivalent of a Gaelic anti-Christ.

Therefore it did not matter whether he was a French Emperor hell bent on conquering the whole of Europe or a mussel seller from Normandy wanting to expand into fresh markets abroad by a quick buy one get one free offer, he was by definition French, therefore evil and therefore had to be stopped.

And thus in 1805 most of Europe was united against the growing size and power of the French Empire. But how did we get here? It was well known by the British public that Napoleon had been wet nursed by wild wolves and raised by witches. That he ate babies for breakfast and had a thing for a woman old enough to be his great grandmother and did not know a fish knife from a butter spoon.

But there were other, more wild theories. One's that said that in his youth he had been a gifted artillery officer who had shown great bravery during the French revolution and through his military genius rose through the ranks and by successful conquests had restored the pride to a broken French nation. But theories such as these are best left to the uneducated that believe that the Earth is round, that women might actually enjoy sex and that leeching was in fact not such a good thing for the anemic.

By 1805 Napoleon had conquered most of the continent of Europe; having subdued the Danish, stormed through the Italian states, smashed the German alliance, put his brother on the Spainish throne and was preparing to thrusting deep into Russia Empire and deal it a crippling blow once and for all.

But at the same time he was building up a massive combined French and Spanish fleet in the North Atlantic in order to crush the British fleet and thus force the British into a negioated peace .

So it seemed that what Napoleon lacked in height, he made up in military might and in his unwavering self belief that he was destined to rule the whole of Europe . His intense passion for empire was only matched by his love for the Lady Marie Josephine Rose Tascher de la Pagerie, known to the world simply as 'Josephine'.

He was captivated by her beauty, for she was indeed a most stunning woman despite being much older than him. His letters to her spoke volumes about his tender love for her:

"I awake all filled with you. Your image and the intoxicating pleasures of last night, allow my senses no rest. Sweet and matchless Josephine, how strangely you work upon my heart".

but within less than ten years Napoleon feelings had cooled considerable towards her:
"I don't love you, not at all; on the contrary, I detest you. You're a naught, gawky, foolish Cinderella".

And what was to blame for this momentous change of heart that the French Emperor had under took? Some would say the fact that Napoleon was about to turn forty and without an heir was starting to resent his much older wife who was now well pass childbearing age.

Or could it have been Madam Josephine fateful encounter with Lieutenant Duncan Windfall, late of his Majesty sunken ship the 'Lark Hawk', on that fateful summer's day in 1805?

Chapter 4
(When is a Man not a Man?)

He was not too sure when on their travels it had exactly happened, maybe sometime between La Rochelle and Saint Nazaire, but there was no denying it had happened; Quartermaster Perkins had changed into a fully fledged woman.

Gone were the two lob sided potatoes, the unshaven legs, the deep voice and ungainly mannerisms. Now they were replaced by enchanting curvy breasts, sumptuous smooth silky legs, a softly spoken voice and a grace that was undeniable feminine.

And maybe the most unsettling thing about Perkins transformation was that he had lost the ability to speak English, instead he had become totally fluent in Spanish. It was most disconcerting, that and the way that his top half now defied physics and managed to stay within his impossibly tight corset.

It was only when they were bathing that Count Vitso Frisky, a man of considerable knowledge and experience with the fairer sex, discovered the undeniable truth. Perkins was in fact a woman. And on further questioning it turned out she was in fact a Spanish peasant called
'Sophia', who claimed she was a 3 rd generation Milking maid.
Windfall was dumb founded, and voiced his concerns. How had she managed to masquerade as both a man and a ship's officer for so long without discovery? How had she known so much about boatmanship, as well as being the ship's bare chested knuckle boxing champion for four years in a row? Surly one of them would of noticed her pair of ample and rather delightful love dumplings?

It was then that Count Frisky had leant forward and whispered in his ear that the reason that he had not noticed before was that this was not Perkins, but a Spanish peasant who had tagged along with them when they were in Rochelle thinking they were fellow freelance Milking Maids seeking work.

After a moment of confusion while it was clarified that through the Count's thick Swiss accent he did in fact mean 'peasant', not 'phesant', Lieutenant Windfall proceeded to frown in an expert fashion that was the product of years of officer training and regular cold baths every morning of his childhood.

For Duncan was trained to take the obvious, ignore it, and blatantly disregard the logical until proven that it is something totally different, then to re-examine the impossible before becoming totally bewildered by the least sensible option and full back on tradition with an elitist slant for the eventual answer.
He explained he understood the Count's conclusions, but how could he possibly be that sure? So 15 minutes later, after much giggling, some animal grunting and a good deal of playful cursing, Count Frisky emerged from the bushes, buttoning himself up, being followed shortly afterwards by a blushing and most dischevelled Sophia.

The Count then declared that he could indeed vouch beyond question that Sophia was indeed a woman and to prove his point fully, he took Sophia back into the bushes and after some more grunting, along with some high pitched screaming and much high pitch shouting, Count Frisky staggered out from the bushes and declared he was definately sure.

Duncan said:

"Really?"

At this, the Count turned around and disappeared again back into the bushes with Sophia and shortly afterwards Sophia could be heard shrieking "Si…. Si…..Si…." and the Count was screaming back something about she had been very naughty and needed to be punished in a very special way.

Eventually he emerged from the bushes, half dressed and stumbling, and said almost slurring his words:

"…. Yes really"

So this all raised an uncomfortable realization……. They had lost Quartermaster Perkins.

The cook suggested they double backed, stocked up on any pastries that were particularly moist and then start a systematic search of La Rochelle.

Duncan could see the logic of this, but he prided himself being able to understand the mind set of the lower ranks and knew exactly where a person such as Perkins would head if he found himself alone. For 22 miles north of the town of La Rochelle was the city of Brest, what God fearing sailor could not resist the sman value of not visiting a city that name sounded like a woman's love pillows?

For surely he could boast later to his friends with a wink, that he had indeed been all over Brest. In fact the potentials puns could last a life time; 'I got to grips with Brest', I saw parts of Brest I never seen before', ''Brest was a lot flatter than I thought it would be', I know it is a daft question, but I wonder what city breast is twinned with?'.....

So it was decided if they Alpine Trekked over the mountains they could come over Brest by dawn. For some reason Edwards smaned at this, but they were never to find out why.

-to be continued-