The Doldrums: the Sailor and the Virgin Ch. 02

At first I was elated to be in New York, but I quickly learned when seeking work that there was little interest in hiring Irish folk. Hearing that there was work for my "kind" in shipyards along the Great Lakes, I made my way west and found work in ship-building in Port Huron, Michigan.

I suppose 'twas a half a year or so into that job, that there came an event which again changed my life. The shipyard had been commissioned by a retired admiral named Franklin Webster to construct a new rudder for his yacht. I was sent with the finished rudder to install it. During the three days that this entailed, an easy camaraderie was struck up between Mr. Webster and myself.

He was using the boat for a chartered sailing business and offered me a position as his first mate. He was getting on in years and with a weak heart was not as agile upon deck as he used to be. Considering the prospect of again being upon the water, the novelty of his business, and his ready companionship, I did not labor long over my decision --- I accepted the position gratefully. That boat was the very one we are on now.

For the next year and a half we plied our business over the Lakes. He was a widower and had lost his own son in a hunting accident. He was like a second father to me, and I think he saw me in a like vein. 'Twas a sad day indeed when his aging heart failed him...the one consolation being that till the last, he did what he loved best: sailing.

I was seeking work again in the shipyards when a law firm in Cleveland contacted me --- Mr. Webster, having no other kin, had bequeathed all his possessions to me: namely the "Miss Charlotte", as the boat was then called. I was suddenly the owner of the vessel free and clear, little though did that console me for the loss of my mentor. I decided then to carry on his business, and have been doing so for the past two years.

"That brings us to today...and if the boat manages to survive this peculiar voyage," Liam winked at her, "I hope to continue to build the business --- perhaps someday I will have a small fleet and carry cargo as well as people."

The lass absorbed this, seeming lost in reflection while she stitched the sail. At length she said softly, "To lose not one but two fathers so young is sobering to contemplate...your fortitude in rallying in the face of such losses is admirable."

She paused in her work and looked out over the lake, winding the thread absent-mindedly round a finger. "You've done and seen so much though starting with so little, Mr. Thomas. I envy you your freedom and courage."

He tried to lighten the solemn mood that had fallen over the conversation, replying with a chuckle. "Well perhaps ye'll not envy me if ye knew how many nights a life of freedom finds ye hungry and sleeping in the street."

She glanced back at him. "Perhaps it is worth it to determine one's own fate."

*****

After supper that evening, Miss Novikov stood before the bookshelf on the starboard side of the main cabin --- the area that Liam liked to term the library. Since the afternoon her manner had shifted subtly back to a polite reserve. "Your library is impressive, Mr. Thomas."

"'Tis a pastime I relish...collecting and reading books. My shipmates used to mock me, for whenever we put into a new port I'd be off to find a resale shop for books when I had the coin."

"May I borrow one until we reach Toronto?"

"Ye may. Help yourself, Miss Novikov." Liam stood beside her, proudly scanning the collection. 'Twas diverse, including such works as Shakespeare, Chaucer, Homer, the Bible, novels, and texts of naval architecture, astronomy, natural sciences, medicine, and physics.

She selected one --- Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea --- and leafed through a few pages. "I'll try this one." Hugging it to her chest, she excused herself, "I'll say goodnight then, Mr. Thomas." She gave him a small nod and retreated to her cabin.

Liam considered her closed door, his thoughts veering to the time yesterday when he had been in her cabin, holding her naked body in his arms. For some minutes he stood by the bookshelf, lost in the recollection...he imagined laying her upon the berth and kissing her lovely body from head to toe. He stood rooted in thought, his body taut, his cock heavy, till at last he dropped his head and briefly scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck in frustration. He turned and went topsides.

The water was as calm as ever. Not wishing to sleep upon the cockpit seat again, he rigged a device to wake him should the wind return, raising a flag part way up the mast and attaching to its halyard a second line that went into his cabin through the porthole; to this he attached a bell that hung above his pillow.

He stood by his desk, restlessly drumming his fingers upon the wood top. He could not stop thinking on her. She was nigh twenty feet away --- just the length of the main cabin separated their closed cabin doors.

He wondered what she was doing...he pictured her sitting up in the berth, a pillow propped against the bulkhead. She would have taken off the ulster...he imagined the white nightgown lovingly curving to the fullness of her breasts, his lucky book resting upon her lap...perhaps touching her cunny through the fabric.

A sudden thought came to him; he could check upon her...perhaps she needed help with the lantern, or another blanket. He was reaching for his cabin door when he stopped himself. Nay, keep your distance. Her polite goodnight had not been ambiguous.

Undressing, he climbed into the berth and picked up the book he was reading: Ivanhoe. He did not open it however. His mind and body had been tense the whole day being in close proximity to the lass...trying to restrain his thoughts of her naked charms just under those lad's clothes a few feet away. Now alone he let his imagination rove unhindered, supplementing erotic musings with her shy manner and pensive eyes.