Disclaimer: All things Kong belong to Universal, Edgar Wallace, Willis O'Brien and Merian C. Cooper, (although Obie was reputed to be unhappy with SoK.). Johnny Smith is mine.

Notes: A massive amount for this story. The title comes from a line in Son of Kong. Not as memorable as 'It was Beauty killed the Beast,' but hey, we're talking a 71 minute movie. In the movie, Hilda Peterson was actually an adult. Since I've already given Carl Denham a love interest, it just worked better to make her a little girl. Apologies to the purists in the house. Racial slurs and epithets are relevant to the time and do not reflect the beliefs of The Author.

The Cocos (Keeling) Islands are actually denoted in this manner, but since Johnny wouldn't hear the parentheses, I left them out. The song Hildy sings, which Johnny and Carl walk out on, is Love for Sale, from Cole Porter's 1930 show, 'The New Yorkers.' Aside from its general sexual connotation, in the Jazz age ' whoopee' also meant wild fun. Denham was being sarcastic. Two bits is twenty-five cents. A ladder, on a ship, refers to a set of stairs.

Thanks to Gail for being the world's best beta. I could never do it without her.

I found it hard, at times, to believe I was actually sailing the South Seas with Carl Denham. He'd gotten me aboard the SS Venture just before she'd sailed out of New York harbor and showed me to a cabin. "This is our cabin," he'd told me.

It wouldn't last. One day he'd grow tired of having a male lover, and he'd go back to the skirts who'd offer to sleep with him in hopes he'd put them in his moving pictures but who wouldn't love him the way I...

I knew it wouldn't last.

I wasn't the kind of mug happily ever after happened to.

* * *

"We're fortunate that we've got that hold full of weapons," Captain Englehorn was telling Mr. Denham as I brought the lunch tray up from the galley. I paused in the entryway to watch them, unobserved.

The Skipper was a tough old bird, in remarkable shape for his age. His hair was salt and pepper, as was the walrus moustache that draped his upper lip. He was a good captain, his only vice appearing to be the pipe he was never without, and he had accepted my last minute inclusion aboard the Venture good-naturedly.

"There's always a demand for guns!" Mr. Denham conceded.

Carl Denham was some twenty years younger than the Skipper. Until a couple of years ago, he had made his living filming travelogues to be shown in the moving picture palaces throughout the hinterlands of America, bringing the wild, the unusual, the breathtaking to small town inhabitants who would never have the opportunity to see them otherwise. Dark hair and eyes, of average height, and physically fit, he was my lover. He was also the only person that I truly loved.

"We were really lucky the ones we never got around to using on the last trip weren't confiscated. We'll be able to use them as currency."

"Really lucky." But the Skipper didn't sound as if he believed that. A lot of men he'd sailed with for years hadn't come back from that voyage. He smiled sadly as he accepted a bowl of fish stew from me, and a slice of week-old bread. "We should be sailing into Dakang within a couple of hours." He peered at the bread and sighed. "It's a good thing we'll be taking on fresh supplies. Charley's a good cook, but even he can't do anything with weevily flour."

"It will be nice to have something other than fish," Mr. Denham agreed as he took the bowl I handed him and speared a bit of fish onto his fork. He studied it dispassionately before deciding to go ahead and put it in his mouth.

"I thought you liked fish, Mr. Denham." I set the tray aside.

"Yeah, but not for breakfast, lunch and dinner!" My lover sent me a grin that never failed to make me go weak in the knees. "How you doing, Johnny?" He hooked his free arm around my waist, and pulled me close to his side. Unseen by the Skipper, his hand drifted down and petted my backside.

"I'm good, Mr. Denham." I leaned discreetly into his caress.

"No more seasickness, kid?"

"Geez, Mr. Denham, I haven't been sick in months." The first few days out of New York had been a nightmare. We'd been sailing into the tail end of the hurricane season, and the Atlantic had been rough. I hadn't been able to leave the cabin I shared with him, puking my guts up, and I knew for a time he had been afraid I might not survive the week. Once we'd reached the calmer waters of the Caribbean, though, and began our passage through the locks of the Panama Canal, my stomach had had a chance to settle down. I'd quickly acquired my sea legs, and I hadn't been sick since.

Captain Englehorn gave me a smile of approval. "You are doing well, Mr. Smith." I always blushed at the measure of esteem his calling me that gave me. "After lunch, I'd like you to try plotting a course from Dakang to Kupang." He'd been teaching me how to navigate using charts and instruments.

"That would be from Malaya to Dutch Timor. Yes, sir." I dropped onto the seat beside my lover and began to eat. "Is that where we'll be going?"

"Yes. We'll take on more coal there, and whatever cargo we can, and then we'll be heading for the Cocos Keeling Islands."

"Aren't they west of Sumatra?"

Before the Captain could answer, Jimmy, who operated the wireless, rushed in. My age, although I felt centuries older, he was one of the few men who had survived the Venture's last journey into the seas west of Sumatra. "Here's the latest, Skipper." He handed Captain Englehorn a slip of paper.

"Thank you, Jimmy," he murmured absently as he studied what was written on the page.

"I don't like the looks of it, Skipper. If you don't mind my sayin' so."

"It does look nasty, doesn't it? Well, no need for us to worry, since we won't be sailing into those waters."

"Phew! That makes me happy! I'll just leave you to your lunch then." The young man went back to his station.

"Is something wrong, Skipper?" Mr. Denham tried to bite off a chunk of bread, and his expression became irritated when it proved to be more of a struggle than he'd anticipated. He banged it on the corner of the table, where it made a solid 'thunking' sound, but he had no success in breaking off a piece.

"Not really." Captain Englehorn's smile was rueful. "It seems there's been some serious volcanic activity recorded in the region of…" He rattled off coordinates that held no meaning to me, but obviously rang a bell with Mr. Denham. He raised his head slowly, and there was a faraway look in his eyes. "We aren't going back there, Carl!"

"No, of course not, Skipper."

"Back where?" I examined my bread carefully to make sure there were no unwelcome additions in it.

"Back to SkullIsland, Johnny."

"Kong's island? How far away is it?"

"It could never be far enough away," Captain Englehorn stated flatly. "We left too many good men on that island. I'll never sail those waters again!"

Carl Denham and Captain Englehorn had returned from 'those waters' a little more than a year ago with King Kong. The giant ape, billed as the Eighth Wonder of the World, had broken free of his chrome steel chains and run amok in Manhattan. He'd gone after Ann Darrow, the woman who had been taken by the natives of SkullIsland to be sacrificed to him, their god. Her fair skin, so different from the dark-skinned women who were usually offered up to him, attracted him as nothing else ever had.

He'd finally taken refuge on top of the EmpireStateBuilding, and the Army Air Force had sent up planes to shoot him down.

King Kong had been destroyed by the machine guns mounted on the aircraft that buzzed him, but Mr. Denham saw it differently. "It was Beauty killed the Beast," he always insisted.

He'd been on the point of being sued by everyone and his brother when Captain Englehorn tracked him down at Mrs. Hudson's rooming house. The authorities were after the Skipper as well, since his ship had been used to transport Kong to the States.

"She's mine, free and clear, Carl. I won't let them take her from me!" He told Mr. Denham of his plan to sail the Venture back to the South Seas, and invited him along to be his partner.

When Carl Denham left New York, he had taken me with him. I'd been a down-on-his-luck kid who too often had to barter his ass for the price of a meal. My winter coat was so threadbare that a good yank by Mr. Denham had torn it in two. But that was after he'd gotten me out of a jam with a saloon keeper who didn't like my looks, fed me at the Automat, and then taken me back to his rooming house where he'd shown me the difference between being fucked and making love.

I didn't care if he'd taken me along because he felt sorry for me, or if it was because my curly blond hair and blue eyes reminded him of the woman who had willingly gone into danger for him. All that mattered to me was that I was with him.

* * *

I was taking the tray with the empty bowls back to the galley, when Red waylaid me.

A wharf rat who'd gotten in dutch with a gang that ran bootleg hooch and dealt in white slavery on the side, Red had been 'thisclose' to wearing cement overshoes when he'd stowed away aboard the Venture just before she'd set sail.

The way he looked at me always gave me the heebie-jeebies.

"C'mere, kid."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? It's what the landlubber calls you."

"He's the only one who calls me that."

Red leered at me. "Yeah, an' I wonder why." He blocked the passage that led down to the galley. "You two sleep in the same cabin. What else d' you do in that cabin?"

"Look, I have to get this tray back to Charley, or he'll skin me."

"You a-scared of that Chink, Johnny?" His use of my first name was almost as bad as him calling me 'kid'.

I wasn't afraid of the Chinese cook, who had always been nice to me, but I was leery of Red. I'd known men like him back before I met Mr. Denham. "Get out of my way. Please." I forced the last word out, trying to placate him.

"I bet you beg real good, Johnny." He took a step closer, and I backed away, only to find the bulkhead preventing any further retreat. I used the tray as a barrier between us, and he knocked it aside, leaning against me. He pulled a lock of hair free of the tie I used to restrain it and rubbed it between his fingers, making a hungry sound. His breath was sour in my face, and his erection pushed insistently at the notch of my thighs. I wondered wildly if his aim was to have me in plain sight of everyone on the ship. I fumbled in my pocket, and my hand closed on the shiv I'd started to carry early in the voyage.

"Red, ain't you got some work to do?" Dutch, the first mate, growled from across the deck. Red recoiled as if he'd been jabbed with an electric wire.

Dutch kept order among his men with his fists and a truncheon, and Red didn't dare disobey. The look he sent me promised vile things if he ever caught me alone, and he had every intention of catching me alone. He disappeared down the gangway.

"Thanks, Dutch." I let out a shaky breath. "He was getting a little pushy."

"Yeah, well, what can you expect when you shake that ass of yours around my men. Stay away from 'em, Smith, or I ain't gonna be responsible for what happens."

A hard flush crept up my cheeks. It wouldn't matter if I told him I hadn't been shaking anything around any of the men. Red wasn't the only one who believed I could be had for the taking. So far the only thing that kept them in line was the fact that Mr. Denham had winged one of the crew when he'd tried to jump me, and the Skipper had put the man off at the next port.

Avoiding Dutch's contemptuous gaze, I gathered up the tray and broken bits of crockery, then edged past him and went down to the galley.

"Johnny, where you been? I need you help me." Charley looked up from the pan of mealy potatoes he'd been peeling and swore in Chinese when he caught sight of the tension in my face. "You aw right? What happen?"

"I'm fine, Charley. Please don't tell Mr. Denham. Red just got a little too enthusiastic." I dropped the broken bowls in the bin Charley used for the trash, then tidied my hair.

"Stay 'way from him, Johnny. He bad man who hurt you just 'cause he can."

"I know. The world is full of men like that." I pushed the worry from my mind. "We'll be sailing into Dakang soon, and I think the Skipper is giving most of the men shore leave. You won't have to cook tonight, Charley."

His yellow face lit up with a grin. "That sound good to me, Johnny." He took the pan of potatoes and tossed them out the porthole. "I gonna find place with good Chinnee cooking, you bet! I got make list of supplies we need, but then you want play Mah Jongg with me?"

"Thanks, Charley, another time, oke? Captain Englehorn wants me to practice my navigation."

Charley nodded, but he was already poking through the larder, muttering to himself.

I slid my hand into my pocket and idly caressed the handle of my shiv. I went back up to the bridge.

* * *

The SS Venture drew quite a bit of water, and Dakang had one of the few harbors where she could ride comfortably at anchor in port. She was tied up at the dock, and the Skipper had assigned Dutch a skeleton crew to keep watch on the cargo of tea and rubber that was being loaded in exchange for a number of the crates of weapons the Venture still carried from her last, ill-fated voyage.

Charley intended to make a bee line for the marketplace, a list in Chinese clutched tight in his hand. Captain Englehorn was going along. "Charley will wind up buying birds' nests for soup and hundred year old eggs if I don't keep an eye on him," he murmured around the pipe in his mouth. His hand rested on the cook's shoulder, and I saw the smile they shared.

I had to look away. It was so private, so personal. Why had I never seen the abiding… friendship between the two men? I glanced up at Mr. Denham. His dark eyes were on me, and they were alight with satisfaction. He winked. "C'mon, kid. Let's go see the sights."

Away from the waterfront, where the breezes off the ocean kept it cool, the air was like a wet blanket that threatened to suffocate us. The heat was overwhelming, and sweat quickly stained the material under the arms of my shirt and down my spine.

"I really oughta get my hair cut," I groused as I ran my hand under the hair that grew almost to my shoulders.

"I like your hair, kid."

Which was why I wouldn't cut it. I sighed and pulled out a handkerchief, and mopped at the dampness that gathered at the back of my neck.

There really wasn't much to see in Dakang beyond a couple of temples and the local whore house, and as the sun set, we found our way to a bar that served food as well as drinks that were guaranteed to eat the enamel off a person's teeth.

"We'll stick with the local beer, kid. It's the safest thing to drink. And you don't want to ask what this is," Mr. Denham told me as he carried the dishes with an unnamed meat on them, grilled and buried under a mound of vegetables, to an unoccupied table, and I brought our glasses of beer.

"I'm not fussy. I've eaten some pretty strange things, Mr. Denham." I set the glasses on the table, then pulled up a chair and sat down.

Under the guise of passing me my dish, his fingers lingered on the back of my hand, and my eyes rose to his in surprise. He didn't usually touch me in public.

"Let's eat and then get back to the Venture. It's been too long since I've had you."

"But Mr. Denham, what about this afternoon?" I kept my face serious, but my eyes crinkled in silent delight. Shortly before we'd sailed into Dakang, I'd gone down to our cabin for a quick wash and to change into shore clothes. My lover had followed me and found me just pulling on my trousers. He'd yanked them back down, scooped up some Vaseline from a jar that he kept on hand, and while one hand was stroking me to full arousal, the fingers of the other were stretching and preparing me for his invasion. When he finally slid into me, it hadn't taken very long before I was panting and trembling under him, and then pouring myself into his hands as he climaxed with a groan.

"Like I said, too long." His eyes were hot as they leisurely traveled over my body.

My prick quivered, and I licked my lips and peeked at him through my lashes. "You promised me a night on the town," I teased.

"This is the sum of the nightlife in Dakang, Johnny." He gazed pointedly around the scruffy bar, and I laughed. "I like when you laugh, kid. You don't do it often enough. Say, it looks like the floor show is about to start! I guess we're going to see some whoopee now!" he said dryly. "Come sit beside me."

Tables had been moved from the center of the floor and equipment was brought out to make it look like a miniature three-ring circus. A grizzled old man in a shabby ringmaster's coat came staggering out with a pair of monkeys riding the epaulets on his shoulders.

"Ladies," he bowed to the raddled whores who sat with their clients, "and gentlemen, and children of all ages!"

Mr. Denham leaned toward me and whispered, "Any parent who allows his kid in a place like this has no right being a parent!"

I nodded my agreement, although I didn't know much about that. My old man had always been too busy to do more than acknowledge my presence with the back of his hand. I went back to listening politely as the old man continued.

"Welcome to the final, farewell tour of Maestro Peterson's World Famous Acrobatic Simians!" He bowed expansively, almost falling on his face, and even from where we sat, we could see he was drunk.

"The old fool been havin' a farewell tour for the last six months!" a voice behind us slurred, and Mr. Denham stiffened.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," he said, slowly turning to face the heckler. "If it isn't Nils Helstrom."

"Yah, I'm Nils Helstrom. Who… Carl Denham?" He was shocked into sobriety.

"This is the man I won the map from, Johnny. The map that showed the way to SkullIsland."

I studied the Norwegian. It was hard to judge how tall he was with him sitting, but I'd wager he was approximately the same height as my lover. His Scandinavian heritage was obvious in his fair hair, although it was greasy and unkempt, and in his pale blue eyes. He was rather gaunt, as if he hadn't been eating on a regular basis. His clothes hung on him, and they were shabby and none too clean. He needed a shave. Badly.

"What are you doin' in this part of the South Seas?" he asked.

"Let's just say that things got a little hot for me back in the States, and I decided to leave."

"You ain't blamin' me for that, are ya? I coulda made a fortune on that map if I'd'a had a chance to sell it. I still think you cheated."

"Mr. Denham doesn't cheat!" I snarled, whipping out my shiv and slapping it down on the table.

He must have realized how serious I was, because he gave a sickly smile. "No. 'Course not. No. I was just jokin'," he whined. "Don't your friend got no sense of humor, Denham?"

Mr. Denham was enjoying his discomfort. "Doesn't look like it, does it, Helstrom? This is my associate, John Smith." The Norwegian didn't offer his hand, and neither did I. "What are you doing here? I thought you were run out of every port from Taiohae to Fatu Hiva."

"I lost my ship." He wasn't going to tell us why. "I been in Dakang six months now, lookin' for another one. I gotta get out of this hell hole! Listen, Denham, maybe you got a spot for me on your ship?"

I waited tensely for my lover to say something. I had a bad feeling about Nils Helstrom. I didn't like him, and I didn't want him on the Venture with us.

"No."

"But…"

A scattering of applause indicated that the performance had come to an end. I didn't much care that we'd missed the monkey riding a unicycle or the one swinging on a trapeze. I took a last swallow of my beer and pushed my chair back, about to suggest we leave.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the highlight of my farewell tour. The jewel of Dakang and all points east! The lovely, the talented: Mademoiselle Helene!" The old man placed a stool in the center of the room with a flourish and waved his hand.

The room became silent, all attention focused on the new performer. Helstrom's face flushed an unhealthy shade, and he made a sound deep in his throat. I turned to see what had caught his interest.

Mademoiselle Helene was beautiful.

The dress she wore was gauzy; it slipped off her shoulder, exposing a fragile collarbone. Long, blonde ringlets were pulled from her piquant face to cascade down her back. Her eyes, set off in a frame of unusually dark lashes and brows, were a deep blue. They were calm under the scrutiny of her audience.

She was beautiful. And she couldn't have been more than seven years old.

Several of the men sat forward, watching her avidly, and I could almost hear them salivating.

She curtseyed, climbed onto the stool, and accepted the guitar the old man gave her. Offering a sweet smile, she struck a chord and began to sing. "' When the only sound in the empty street, Is the heavy tread of the heavy feet That belong to a lonesome cop…I open shop…'"

Mme. Helene had a surprisingly strong voice for a child, but she was a little girl. She shouldn't have been singing about whores. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mr. Denham flinch. None of the other patrons seemed to care, they were too busy staring at her. The old man watched her perform with inordinate pride.

"Mr. Denham?" I whispered.

"Yeah, kid. Let's go. So long, Helstrom."

The Norwegian grunted absently, devouring the girl with his eyes. We got up and left, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I paused at the door, glancing back at her. Mr. Denham squeezed my shoulder. "There's nothing we can do, Johnny. It's not our business."

"I know, but…"

"Come on. I know of a little beach at the end of this road. What do you say we go for a moonlight swim?" The road was deserted. He slung an arm over my shoulders, and we strolled through the balmy night. "It should take us about a quarter hour to get there."

"How did you find out about it, Mr. Denham?" Frangipani scented the warm air.

"I gave one of the kids who swarm the dock two bits to tell me the best spot to go swimming at night with someone you… like very much."

"So that means you… like me?"

"Yeah, kid, I guess it does." His arm tightened around me. "Very much."

I tucked those words away in my memory, for a time when they were all I had. I knew there would come a day when he would no longer want me, but that day hadn't come yet.

The beach was small, not more that a dozen yards from one end to the other, and about half that to the water's edge. It was secluded, shielded by native plants that grew densely around its periphery. Gentle waves lapped at the shore, their soft rushing the only sound that disturbed the night. We took off our shoes and socks and began to cross the sand, which was silvered in the moonlight. It was cool beneath our feet.

I watched appreciatively as my lover shed his clothes and ran headlong into the water to cut the surface neatly in a flat dive. He emerged, waist deep, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "Come on in, Johnny! The water's fine!"

"Are you sure there's nothing in there that will eat me?" I was thinking of the sharks that I'd seen over the Venture's railing from time to time, as Charley would dispose of the bloody remains of the fish that had been caught and cleaned for a meal.

"Only me, kid," he teased.

My blush went unseen in the dark of the night.

"C'mon, Johnny. Let me teach you what it's like to make love in the ocean!"

"Just don't let me drown, Mr. Denham." I stepped into the water tentatively, but it was as warm as bathwater, and I took a deep breath and dove into the oncoming waves. I'd been tossed into the East River too many times not to have learned at least the rudiments of swimming.

I could tell from his movements that he had no idea where I was, and I swam underwater toward his legs. They were like two muscular columns, bracing his weight, rising up from the sandy bottom, and I itched to run my fingertips over the hair that covered calves and thighs, and… higher. I found I couldn't resist.

My lover's startled shout was muffled by the ebb and flow of the water I was submerged in. His prick was quiescent but quickly swelled, as if he knew I was watching, as if he knew I wanted to drag my tongue over the crown, dip it into the slit, and suckle it until he climaxed in my mouth, but he'd given me no indication that he wanted that.

I had to surface for air sooner than I liked.

"Rascal!" he growled playfully and pulled me into his embrace. I laughed out loud. The last thing I expected was the kiss.

Although Carl Denham had been the first person, the only person, who had ever kissed me, I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had done it. I knew that was one aspect of our lovemaking he wasn't comfortable with, so whenever he chose to include that, I savored it.

He licked my lips, tasting the salt drops that lingered on them, then nudged them apart. His tongue didn't surge into my mouth, as I was anticipating, but lingered just within, rubbing over the edges of my teeth, lapping at my tongue. My breath hitched, and suddenly I was sucking on his tongue frantically, on fire for him.

My lover's fingers squeezed my ass cheeks rhythmically, and I could tell he was as hot for me. He backed me out of the surf, leaning me against a rock that was hidden by the shadows of the palm trees surrounding the beach. It had been worn smooth by the action of the waves over the long years, and was cool against my back.

He worked my prick until I filled his hand with my seed, and he coated himself with it. I lay back on the rock and pulled my legs against my chest, opening myself to him. Knowledgeable fingers smeared semen over my hole, into it to lubricate his way, and he buried himself balls deep in my back passage with one smooth thrust.

Mr. Denham painted my torso with the remains of my climax, rubbing it onto my nipples until they hardened to pinpoints of maddening sensation. His hands encircled my throat, and his thumbs pushed my chin up. He murmured something, but the blood was roaring in my ears, and I couldn't understand his words. It didn't matter, because his mouth came down on mine, his lips brushing back and forth until I parted my lips with a helpless moan. This time his tongue took my mouth, filling it as surely as his prick filled my ass. I sucked on it, the fingers of one hand digging into his hip so hard I was sure to leave bruises, while the fingers of the other flexed in his hair.

He pulled his mouth free, gasping for breath while he fucked me, pounded into me, sweating, swearing, biting down on the side of my neck, until he finally reached orgasm, pulsing against my sweet spot. My prick, trapped between our bodies, attempted to rise to the occasion, and would have if it hadn't already been satisfied.

I lay beneath him, boneless, sated, the rough edges of the rock digging into my back, willing to stay like that for the rest of our lives, if that was what he wanted.

Finally he let out a contented sigh and murmured, "We'd better get back to the ship, Johnny."

"Oke, Mr. Denham." I ran my fingertips along the curve of his jaw, the stubble of his beard tantalizing under my fingers. I made no move to get up.

"You planning to move any time soon, kid?" His prick was softening.

"In about ten or twelve years?"

He chuckled and slipped out of me. My inner muscles clamped down, trying unsuccessfully to hold onto his prick. He pulled me to my feet, and we staggered a bit, then went into the ocean to wash ourselves clean, propping each other up. We used our BVDs to wipe off the excess moisture, dressed, and started back to Dakang and the Venture.

* * *

"Enjoy the moonlight swim, Johnny?"

"Yeah, Mr. Denham." I leaned into his side. "I'd never have known what I was missing if I hadn't met you." Only I wasn't talking about swimming. I wondered if my lover knew it. "I didn't realize we were gone so long."

"What?"

I pointed to the sky ahead of us. "The sun's already coming up."

"That's the West! Jesus, Johnny, that's not the sun! Something's on fire in Dakang!"

"Not the Venture, Mr. Denham!"

"No." He broke into a run, and I followed on his heels. "It doesn't look like it's coming from the harbor. Oh, sweet …" A tent behind the bar where we'd dined was burning fiercely. "That's Peterson's tent!" Simian shrieks filled the night. "Oh, those poor little bastards!"

The fire raged out of control, and the bucket brigade had given up on the tent. Men were frantically wetting down neighboring structures in hopes of saving them from the inferno.

"Help me! Please, help me!" The little girl, clothed in a nightdress streaked with soot, was trying to drag an inert figure from the blazing canvas. Mr. Denham and I jumped forward to each grab an arm and pull the old man the rest of the way out. His clothes were a charred ruin, and the odor of burnt flesh almost overcame me.

I stared in horror at my hands, which were covered in the ash that had been his shirt and skin. "Is there a doctor in the village?"

Mr. Denham had his ear pressed to Peterson's chest, listening for a heartbeat. He sat back on his heels, caught my eye, and shook his head. "It's no use."

The little girl burst into tears. "Daddy! Daddy, you can't leave me!" Her little hands fisted in his shirt, and she shook him. "You can't leave!"

Mr. Denham put an arm around her and urged her to her feet. "I'm sorry, Helene."

"Hildy." Her eyes glittered with tears.

"Excuse me?"

"Daddy said 'Helene' sounded more professional, but my name is really Hildy."

"Is there anyone you can stay with, Hildy?"

She sniffled and ran the heels of her hands under her eyes. "No. It was just Daddy and me."

"Mr. Denham, who's going to look after her?"

"I can take care of myself." The little girl's voice cracked on a sob. "I'm… I'm very self-reliant." She burst into tears again.

A large woman dressed in a sarong stepped forward. "I take little missy. She come home with me."

My lover looked relieved. "Good. We'll take up a collection so she has a little money. Where are you staying? I'll bring it to you in the morning."

The woman gestured to a row of ramshackle houses. "Just ask for Mai Ling." She put her arm around the little girl and hustled her away.

One of the men in the group snapped his fingers and pointed to the body on the ground. "Bury him. Bodies no keep in this heat."

My lover was gazing intently into the shadows. "Is that Helstrom?"

"I don't see anyone." I stared after the Malay woman. "Does she look familiar, Mr. Denham?"

"Hmm?" He brought his attention back to me. "Oh, they all look alike, kid. You probably saw someone who looked like her when we were sightseeing."

But I didn't think I had seen her in the streets of Dakang.

* * *

"It really isn't much, Mr. Denham," I murmured as we walked through Dakang late the next morning. "What's she going to do?"

"This is a lot of money for these islands, kid. She'll make out fine. Hey," he hailed a boy of around twelve, "where does Mai Ling live?"

The boy leered at us and pointed to a house whose roof was in dire need of repair. Mr. Denham frowned, but walked to the doorway.

"You give her to me, Mai Ling," we heard someone say in a low, harsh voice. "Her father promised her to me!"

"I no think so! Little missy stay with me!"

"I told you she'd be oke, kid," Mr. Denham whispered. He rapped on the doorframe. "Mai Ling, I have some money for the little girl."

"I be one minute," she called, but it was longer than that. "So sorry, Joe. You give Mai Ling the dough."

"Who was that in here?" I asked her, seeing that there was no one else in the room.

"I no know what you talkin' 'bout, Joe. I all alone."

I studied her eyes, but they revealed nothing. "Where's Hildy? I'd like to say goodbye."

"Little missy still asleep, Joe. She cry long time for father. You go now. Mai Ling got t'ings to do."

"Let's go, Johnny. The cargo's been loaded, and we'll be leaving in half an hour." He gave the woman a polite salute and walked out. I followed him, reluctant to leave without seeing the little girl.

"Mr. Denham," I said urgently, "she's American. We can't just leave her."

"She can't come with us! The men on the ship are some of the worst scum I've ever come across. The Skipper didn't have much choice; he was in such a hurry to leave that he had to take what he could get to man her. We can't expose a little girl to riffraff like that!"

"But Carl…"

His head whipped around at my use of his name. "Johnny, we can't…"

"Denham!" It was Nils Helstrom, who'd captained the Norwegian bark, and I hoped he wouldn't keep us standing there long. If the Venture was leaving soon, I'd have to come up with some damn good arguments to take the little girl with us.

Mr. Denham studied Helstrom from the soles of his worn canvas shoes to the dirty cap on his head. "What?"

"You gotta take me with you on the Venture!" He grabbed my lover's arm and I could see his fingers digging in. My hand was in my pocket, reaching for my shiv. "Englehorn's a good man, he'll go along with it if you ask him."

"No." Mr. Denham shook off Helstrom's grip and stepped aside to walk around the edgy man.

"Listen, Denham! Listen to me!" He dogged after us. "I didn't tell you everything about SkullIsland."

"No?"

"No! Behind that wall! I know what's behind that wall!"

"No fooling, Helstrom. And what would you know about what was behind the wall?"

"The native I found, he told me there's a treasure! Jewels!"

"What?"

Satisfied that he had caught my lover's interest, the Norwegian drew in a deep breath. He licked his lips, his eyes darting this way and that, almost as if he was trying to buy himself some time, I thought. "He... uh… he said there was a temple, an old temple, to their god, uh… before Kong… behind that wall, and… uh… in that temple was a fortune in jewels. Diamonds. Sapphires as blue as this kid's eyes. Rubies as big as your nose! Worth a king's ransom, he said!"

"A god before Kong? Why didn't you mention this when you wagered the map?"

"I thought I had the winnin' hand, that I couldn't lose. An' then when I did, I was sore, an' decided I wouldn't tell you. I figured I knew the latitude an' longitude, I'd maybe go sail there myself. Only I lost my ship before I could, an'…"

Mr. Denham's lip curled, and he turned and walked toward the pier.

"No, wait," Helstrom pleaded, and he ran after him.

I stood there undecided for a moment, then went back to the Malay woman's house.

* * *

"You're not hungry, Johnny?"

I gave a guilty start and stared down at my food, which I'd been pushing from one side of my plate to the other. "Not really, Mr. Denham. I grabbed a bite at the marketplace before I came back on board," I lied.

"So that's what held you up." He leaned forward and ruffled my hair. His action loosened it from the tie that kept it out of my face. "You nearly missed the boat, you know."

"I know," I said in a subdued voice, brushing my hair back behind my ears. "I'm sorry. Thank you for not sailing without me."

My lover frowned at me as if he found my statement perplexing, but it was Captain Englehorn who said, "Not at all, young man. Carl would have been unbearable to live with if you'd been left behind. However reticent he might be about it, I think you're good for my friend."

I risked a glance at the Skipper. He really thought that? But he was mopping up a bit of gravy with a chunk of fresh bread and didn't notice my hopeful expression. "Thank you, Captain. Um… I think I'll turn in, if you don't mind?"

"You going to leave your plate here, Johnny? Skipper and I will split your dinner. No need for Charley to know you didn't want it."

"Oh. No. That's oke, Mr. Denham. I wouldn't want to hurt Charley's feelings. I'll just… er… take it with me for later."

"If…you're… sure, kid?" His words were measured, and the way he was watching me made me nervous.

"Yes. 'Night." I hurried out of the cabin. How long would I be able to keep my secret? And what would Mr. Denham think of me when he found it out?

* * *

The lantern shed a dim light in our cabin. I stared morosely at the shadows that were cast on the wall.

When the door opened, I shut my eyes and tried to regulate my breathing, pretending to be asleep. I could feel Mr. Denham's eyes on me. "What are you up to, John Smith?" he whispered, running his hand over my blond hair. "And when are you going to tell me?"

"Hmmm? Huh? Oh, Carl." I pretended to waken. "You say something?"

"What's wrong, John?"

"Nothing. I swear."

His hands dropped to his belt, and he began to undress. "Why don't I believe you?"

I rolled onto my side, huddling in on myself, chilled in spite of the muggy night air. Suddenly I felt my nightshirt sliding up over the backs of my thighs, over my ass, to be abandoned over my ribs.

Warm palms stroked their way back down and pushed me onto my belly. They gripped my cheeks and parted them. I tried to hold myself still, uncertain what my lover had in mind for me, but my control was shattered by the touch of his tongue first licking delicately at my hole and then curling to penetrate it. I buried my head in my pillow to prevent my stunned cry from going any further.

He turned his head, and his lips caressed the curve of my ass. Teeth bit down into it, and then lips and tongue began to work, marking it. I knew when he was done there would be a deep purple bruise.

Slicked fingers probed my hole, finding entry made even easier by the actions of his tongue. I tried to get my knees under me so I could push backwards. "No. I don't want you to move. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I bit down hard on my lip to keep myself from crying. I was lucky he had taken the time to prepare me, but I understood. He was going to fuck me, to teach me a lesson for keeping things from him. I wondered if he'd put me off the ship, leave me behind at the next port we came to.

I held myself motionless, but I couldn't prevent the shudders that wracked my body.

"Easy, kid. Easy."

His prick thrust in smoothly, a huge intrusion stretching my back passage, and his body blanketed mine. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me snug against him, then twined our fingers together and eased us over onto our sides. My ass was cradled against his groin, and he started a gentle rocking motion. I would have sworn that I could feel each wiry hair that surrounded his prick brushing against my buttocks.

He changed the angle just a bit and hit my sweet spot, and I felt a tidal wave of heat rush over my body. I made a low, desperate sound. His laugh was just as low, just as desperate. I tried to free my hands so I could stroke my prick, but he tightened his grip.

Each time I came close to climaxing, he'd slow until the claws of need that tore at me would subside. Finally he placed my hands around my aching, oozing shaft, folded his hands around mine, and let me take control of the movements. I gasped out disjointed phrases, of want, and need, and … It didn't take long after that. I was spilling my seed into our joined hands, and he was filling me with his heat.

I thought I heard him whisper something about… No, that was stupid. A man… like Carl Denham… would never lo… I fell asleep, the thought unfinished.

* * *

I was in the wheelhouse, trying unsuccessfully to plot out a route Captain Englehorn had given me, from the island of Tinian to Leyte. The Skipper was at the wheel, one hand cupped around the bowl of his pipe, and Mr. Denham was leaning against the hatchway, smoking a cigarette he'd rolled himself.

I watched him hungrily. His eyes were brooding as he stared at the ocean rolling away behind us. He'd been cool to me, hadn't touched me, since the night of our departure from Dakang more than a week before, and it was breaking my heart. I became tense whenever he was near me.

Something down on the weatherdeck drew his attention and he stiffened. "Uh oh. What's this? A committee of the workers in Russia?"

"What are you talking about, Carl?"

"Better come take a look, Skipper."

I suddenly had a funny feeling in my gut. I joined them on the companionway. Below us was about half the crew, men who weren't on duty.

"What's going on, men?" the Skipper called down.

"That's what we'd like to know!" They separated, and left standing in the center of the deck was the little girl. She stood quietly, her arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself. Her hair was braided down her back, and she wore a man's shirt, belted at her waist with a length of rope.

"That's Hildy Peterson, Skipper," Mr. Denham said, his hands clenched on the rail. "The little girl from Dakang. How did she get on board?"

"Dames is bad luck at sea!" Red hollered, shaking his fist and glowering up at us. "I say we t'row her over the side!"

My hand went to the shiv in my pocket.

"Nonsense!" the Skipper barked. "That's simply superstition, and foolish superstition at that! Come up here, little girl."

Hildy rushed up the stairs. Her eyes were huge, and they settled on me with every sign of relief. "I'm sorry, Johnny. Eddie came down to the galley for something, and he found me before I could hide."

I dropped to one knee, opening my arms to her, and she went into them. I could feel the tremors shaking her slight body and tightened my hold, trying to make it as comforting as possible. She slid an arm around me and buried her face against my shoulder.

"I brought her on board, Captain." My mouth was dry. "I'm sorry, Mr. Denham, I couldn't leave her there. Mai Ling was one of the whores who was in the bar that night; that's where I recognized her from. She was going to sell Hildy. She already had a plantation owner lined up. Seems he had a taste for little girls." I couldn't disguise the bitterness in my voice.

"Ah, hell. Why didn't you tell me, kid?"

"You told me no. I disobeyed you."

"Is that why you've been so skittish? And here I was thinking… You're a dope, you know that?" He tipped up my face and ran his knuckles under my chin. "We've got a partnership here, don't you realize that yet?"

"We do?"

"We do. Next time, come talk to me. Don't let me think… Never mind, you don't want to know what screwy things I was thinking!" He looked Hildy over, and his eyes narrowed. "Say, that shirt looks familiar." He rubbed the collar between thumb and forefinger.

"It's… uh… it's one of yours, Mr. Denham. I borrowed it. All Hildy's clothes were destroyed in the fire."

"Johnny…" He sounded exasperated, but he was smiling, and I knew everything was jake between us. He threaded his fingers through my hair and gave a little tug. I rubbed my cheek against his hand.

"Where have you been keeping her, Mr. Smith?"

"The first night I hid her in one of the lifeboats, but it was too dicey; anyone could have found her, so I talked to Charley, and he let her stay with him, Skipper."

"So that's why he's suddenly developed a chronic headache!" the Skipper chuckled.

"All the men know he sleeps with that meat cleaver under his pillow. I thought that was the safest place for her."

"And were you ever going to tell us she was on board?"

I rose to my feet and looked away.

"Never mind. How do you do, Miss Hildy?" Gallantly he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

"I do quite well, thank you, Captain Englehorn. May I ask the same of you?" An adult's response. Had she ever sounded like the little girl she was?

The Skipper smiled at her, then turned to see the men still gathered around on the deck. "This was a working vessel, the last time I looked. You men get back to work."

"Yeah, well, what about him?"

This time Nils Helstrom was shoved forward.

"What the hell are you doing on this ship, Helstrom?" my lover demanded.

The Norwegian gave a sickly grin but addressed his words to the Skipper. "I had to leave Dakang, Englehorn, but I couldn't get a ship. I was goin' batty; the heat, the bugs, the liquor that tasted like donkey piss. An'… er… uh… They was blamin' me for that fire!" He licked his lips nervously, and his eyes darted to the little girl. "Didja ever hear such a load of hooey?"

Hildy clutched my hand, her grip strong for a child. "Johnny, he killed my daddy!" she said in a clear voice, her eyes glittering with anger. She had vowed she was done shedding tears a couple of days after we'd sailed from Dakang.

Every eye in the wheelhouse turned on Helstrom. "Is that true?"

"No! The girl's talkin' crazy, I tell ya! She don't know what she's sayin'!" He scowled at Hildy as if trying to will her mouth shut. "Why would I want to hurt her old man? I didn't hardly know 'im! An' besides, I wasn't even there!"

Her hand tightened. "He brought Daddy booze! Every night after a performance!" She tugged me down to her level again, and her breath was warm against my ear. "It scared me, the way he would look at me, and Daddy said I should never go with him, no matter what!"

"Ain't a man innocent till proved guilty?" Helstrom's tone was sulky.

The Skipper glowered at the man, working the stem of his pipe between his teeth. "You're here on my ship, Helstrom, and I can't very well toss you overboard. But I've heard of you; you're bad news, and I don't need your sort of trouble. I intend to put you off at our next port of call. In the meantime, you'd better watch your step. If I see you starting anything with my men, I'll have Charley chop you up for fish bait! Have I made myself clear?"

"Sure, Skipper. Sure." Helstrom's lips were smiling, conciliatory, but his eyes were filled with resentment.

* * *

During the next couple of weeks, we seemed to have run into a streak of bad luck. Captain Englehorn came down with some sort of stomach ailment and was laid up in his cabin. While he was recovering, most of the day-to-day running of the Venture was left to Dutch.

We lost a man or two each time the Venture sailed into port, usually through run-ins with the local law, although a couple decided they preferred the easy-going life on the Spice Islands to the taut way the Skipper ran his ship.

Of course, none of the men left behind was Helstrom. The Norwegian was never anywhere to be found when we berthed, not turning up until after the Venture had sailed again and was safely out of sight of land. Captain Englehorn had recovered by that time. He didn't push it because we'd become so short-handed. Besides, it appeared as if Helstrom was pulling his own weight.

* * *

Something jolted me out of a restive sleep in the quiet hours after midnight.

Mr. Denham had taken to sleeping curled around me, his chin resting on my hair as it fanned out on the pillow. I savored the sense of belonging that embrace gave me, and I lay like that, trying to determine what had disturbed me. Finally I came to the conclusion it must have just been the urge to relieve myself. I slid out from under my lover's arm and made my way to the head.

I was too edgy to go back to sleep, so I decided to go up on deck and contemplate the constellations in the southern sky. Quietly I pulled on a pair of trousers, making sure my shiv was in the pocket, put on my shoes and tucked in my nightshirt.

Mr. Denham had kicked off the covers, and gooseflesh pimpled his arms and legs. I drew the blanket over him, rubbing my cheek against his before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then left the cabin.

Before I had gotten very far, I heard footsteps pounding on the deck. It sounded like thunder, it was coming this way, and I got that funny feeling in my gut again. I slipped into a narrow stowage compartment where mops and buckets were stored, keeping the door cracked so I could see and hear what was happening. About half a dozen men came storming down the passageway, and they burst into our cabin.

"What the…" Mr. Denham demanded, groggy from being awakened from a sound sleep.

"Grab 'im, boys!"

He quickly came to full alertness. "What's going on? What do you think you're doing?"

"We're takin' over this ship! Get 'im up on deck with the Old Man!" I recognized Red's voice.

Mr. Denham was dragged out in his nightshirt, struggling. I started to go to his aid, and he saw me, although the others didn't. He gave a shake of his head, indicating I should stay put, and stopped trying to get out of their grip. "All right, boys. I guess you've got me," he said with the same tone of voice he must have used when he matter-of-factly announced that, 'It was Beauty killed the Beast.' "At least let me get some clothes on."

"Red?"

"What the fuck are you still doin' here?"

"He needs somethin' to wear."

"Fuck it. Here." A pair of trousers was tossed from the cabin.

"Shoes, Red?" Mr. Denham asked as he drew on first one trouser leg and then the other, tucking his own nightshirt in and buttoning the fly.

A stream of curses came from our cabin, and then a pair of shoes was flung out. "Now get 'im the fuck on deck."

They disappeared up the ladder.

I stayed hidden. Once I learned what was going on, I'd figure a way to rescue my lover.

There were sounds of the cabin being thoroughly searched. "Smith ain't here, Red."

"No shit."

"Dutch ain't gonna be happy, that's for sure!" one of the other men muttered. The first mate was involved as well? Bile filled my throat. What was happening?

Red growled. "Billy, Eddie, Snitch, go look for the fag! When you find 'im, don't beat on 'im too much. We get rid of the mucky mucks, an' I'm gonna have me some fun with his ass!" I shivered at the venom in his voice. "An' mebbe I'll even share, once I've had enough of 'im. I'm goin' back topside. Dutch wants to keep a eye on the Norwegian. Helstrom says he's only lookin' out for us, but Dutch an' me, we ain't so sure of that!"

Footsteps faded as they left the area and silence descended. I slipped out of the compartment, crossed to our quarters, and stared aghast at the disaster they'd left behind. Clothes had been yanked from cupboards and strewn all over our berth and the deck. Papers were ripped and torn.

I had to get to my lover. I made my way to the top deck, slinking through the shadows, taking care to remain unseen.

Captain Englehorn faced his men, endeavoring to conceal his anger. "What is the meaning of this?" He prepared his pipe, as if dealing with a mutinying crew was an everyday occurrence. Beside him were Mr. Denham, just stepping into his shoes, and Jimmy, who was holding a bloody rag to his forehead. I wasn't surprised to see him ranged with the Skipper. The wireless operator had always been staunchly loyal to his captain.

"I'll tell you what the meanin' of this is!" Dutch mocked derisively. "We're onto you! You was headin' this old tub back to SkullIsland, you an' Denham! Helstrom told us what happened your last trip out, all the men that died, an' we got no intention of joinin' 'em!"

Twelve men, Mr. Denham had said. Twelve had died, one trampled underfoot by a horned dinosaur, another crushed between the jaws of a creature that lived in the lake that was almost an inland sea. Most had been shaken off a downed tree that had spanned a ravine by Kong, who had backtracked when he'd heard them following him. They had plummeted to the chasm floor fifty feet below. The lucky ones died instantly, from the fall or from being torn apart by a prehistoric spider so huge it made those 'station wagons' Henry Ford was mass-producing look like a boy's toy. But some… some had been cocooned by the spider as a source of food for her eggs, which she'd laid on their bodies. Mr. Denham had watched in horror from the other side of the ravine, helpless to do anything to save them.

I'd held him when he'd been tormented by the nightmares.

A sailor cried from the bow, "Bottom! Twenty fathoms!"

"An' youse planned the same t'ing for us!" Red sneered. "Well, not on your Nelly, Captain god almighty Englehorn! We's takin' over this ship! The Venture be ours now!"

Dutch frowned and gave him a sharp poke to shut him up.

"That's mutiny!" The Skipper sought to reason with them. "Do you all want to hang?"

"It's only mutiny if we get caught!" Dutch's eyes were shrewd. "An' I aim to see we don't get caught!"

"How will you do that?"

"Listen!" Dutch ordered, pointing to starboard.

"What are we listening for?" Mr. Denham looked from Dutch to the Skipper.

"Them's breakers! We's about a half a mile from SkullIsland!" Red was only too ready to gloat, and Dutch glowered at him, irritated.

"Skull Island?" The Skipper sounded horrified, and that was when I really got scared. "We aren't supposed to be anywhere near that part of the South Seas! We're totally off course!"

"Bullshit! Like we'd believe anything you tell us! You were gonna do this all along!" The first mate insisted. "You're lucky we don't throw you to the sharks."

Again the voice floated back from the bow of the ship. "Bottom! Ten fathoms!"

"This ship draws six!" the Skipper said urgently. "Slow her down or she'll tear out her bottom!"

"Think I don't know that, Skipper? I been to sea since I was a snot-nosed kid." But Dutch shouted, "Dead slow ahead!"

The cry came back, "Dead slow, aye!"