Tagged: boat

The Woman With The Glass Eye

  • by jenthey get angry.
  • a big bag of money
  • portrait of a marriage in trouble
  • his own skillful hands
  • perfectly shameful to take advantage of Mrs Hunter’s good nature

Tune In Next Time Part 28                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The woman with the glass eye and the bikini clamped her hand onto my shoulder as the ship approached. How could I get out of this? I couldn’t offer her a big bag of money because Tessa had run off with it all. Perhaps I could seduce her. She’d seemed unimpressed by my physique a few moments ago, but it was worth a shot. No matter my failings, I was pretty sure I was more appealing than Jorgensen.

I tried to channel James Bond at his suavest as I wrapped my arm around her waist.

“You’re kidding, right?” she sneered.

Next thing I knew she dragged me into the surf. Her arm around my throat immobilized me, and she swam with me out to meet the ship. Jorgensen himself hauled us aboard with his own skillful hands.

“He tried to make a pass,” the bikini woman said.

“It’s perfectly shameful to take advantage of Mrs Hunter’s good nature,” Jorgensen snarled.

Mrs Hunter? Oh shit. That could only mean my tormentress and kidnapper was the estranged wife of Heinrich Hunter. I’d heard rumors. From day one theirs was the very portrait of a marriage in trouble. Things got so bad it nearly destroyed the pirate ninja alliance. The glass eye really should have tipped me off. It was a souvenir of the Hunters’ tempestuous honeymoon. And now Aphrodite Hunter was keeping company with Captain Jorgensen.

The biggest problem with pirates and ninjas is that they lose all honor when they get angry. This would not end well.

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My Time in the Sewer

  • by jenyou are a murderess or something
  • “Rouse yourself, my dear girl.”
  • I’m afraid that our hunt’s over
  • cudgeling his brain for some pretext
  • captured by a group of angry citizens

Tune In Next Time Part 18                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

My time in the sewer does not bear speaking of. Suffice it to say that I made my way through the filthy pipe all the way to its outlet into the sea. I then spent a few minutes scrubbing myself clean with saltwater. Or as clean as one can get that close to raw sewage.

As luck would have it, my flume ride of effluent deposited me only a mile down the beach from the pier I’d been trying to reach anyway. I swam along parallel to the shore, dragging the submersible digging machine along. I arrived at the pier as the sun peeked over the horizon. I’d have to work fast if I wanted to claim my prize without being captured by a group of angry citizens.

The roar of an outboard motor cut through the crashing of the waves and there they were, John and Tessa, in a new zodiac, closing in on the pier. The engine cut out and I heard John say, “Rouse yourself, my dear girl.”

Tessa stretched and yawned as she sat up. With their attention on the pilings and the waves, neither had noticed me yet. I had one chance.

I took a huge breath and dove down to the bottom, the weight of the digging machine making my descent dangerously fast. I embedded its nose into the sandy bottom in the spot where I thought the treasure was most likely to be buried, and turned it on.

Sand and seashells and little bits of pulverized fish flew up in a gory tornado behind the machine, chumming the water and cutting visibility to zero. My lungs ached for air like a man cudgeling his brain for some pretext to explain away his Ashley Madison account.

The light on my underwater digging machine turned from green to red, the signal that it had found something. I shoved it aside and stuck my hands down into the hole it had made. They closed around a metal box. I yanked it free from the seabed and kicked for the surface.

When my head broke through to the air, I took a very noisy breath. Tessa, mere yards away, spotted me immediately and said to John, “I’m afraid that our hunt’s over.” Looking back at me she said, “Is this close enough to the East River for you, you bastard? You should know by now that I’m nobody’s poodle.”

“No Tessa, you’re no poodle. You are a murderess, or something even worse.”

I stared her down as I treaded water, holding the metal box just below the surface of the rolling waves. And then I spotted the dorsal fins. Sharks, attracted, no doubt, by the fresh fish smoothie my digging machine had blended up.

Damn.

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I Dragged Myself Backwards

  • by jenlight pollution works in your favor
  • took a lengthened pull at the exhilarating liquid
  • recognize these assholes out in the wild
  • maps, engraving, money, photos, stamps
  • with slowness immeasurable

Tune In Next Time Part 3                               Click Here for Earlier Installments

I dragged myself backwards toward shore with slowness immeasurable, the cinderblocks chained to my ankles digging deep into the sandy ocean floor. The zodiac lurched forward with John in the bow, brandishing the harpoon. Tessa giggled maniacally.

“Run for it!” she shrieked again, mocking me, then guffawed.

Amongst the pilings I tried to find a shadow to hide in, but the boardwalk was awash with blinking neon and apparently light pollution works in your favor when you’re a psychopath. Tessa steered the boat straight at me and took a lengthened pull at the exhilarating liquid in the flask she kept tucked in her ample cleavage.

I thought of everything that had been in the safe: maps, engraving, money, photos, stamps, diamonds — John had all of it now. John and Tessa.

If I survived the night I’d need to learn to recognize these assholes out in the wild, save myself the trouble of partnering up with them. Or worse, falling in love.

The harpoon was mere feet from my chest when suddenly Tessa yanked hard on the tiller and John toppled into the sea with a salty splash.

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Aren’t Ya Gonna Shoot Him?

  • Either way, I am quickly losing faith in the Deutschepost.k-avatar
  • wanted the reader to be kidnapped
  • “You appear to be astonished,”
  • I will deliver it by hand.
  • taken in by a pair of handsome con artists

Tune In Next Time Part 2                               Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Aren’t ya gonna shoot him?” Tessa asked.

John smirked harder, then turned a softer smile her way. “It’ll be more fun if I don’t, babe.” He kissed her.

I turned away, the sight of that smooch worse than my own imminent demise. I looked over at the old pilings, where the high-tide level was marked by the sudden absence of snaggletoothed masses of mussels and barnacles. That level was at least a foot over my head. Shit. Each lazy swell rode higher up my torso, soon they’d be lapping my chin like cold, fishy-smelling Saint Bernards.

“You appear to be astonished,” John said. “Didn’t you know what I was planning?”

“Tessa,” I said, “you don’t want to see this. Make him put you ashore.”

She shook her auburn head, smiling playfully and winking. Shit.

“John, this is stupid,” I tried. “It’s like sending a ransom note when you wanted the reader to be kidnapped. How are you going to pull this off without me?”

“I have the map, moron!” John called.

I shrugged. “Unless you don’t.” I always was the better poker player. “I knew you had the combination to that safe, so I took some precautions. Of course, now I don’t know if the original made it back to me, or if the phony was misdirected.” Another shrug. “Either way, I am quickly losing faith in the Deutschepost.”

John laughed. “Nice try,” he said.

Tessa huffed and folded her arms, buoying her cleavage like the inflatable speedboat she sat in. “Why’d I hafta get taken in by a pair of handsome con artists? It’s gettin’ cold out here, John, just shoot him already.”

John grumbled, but to my horror he raised the harpoon gun and took careful aim.

Click. The weapon didn’t fire.

“Run for it!” Tessa yelled.

I started hauling myself backwards, dragging the blocks chained to my feet, fighting the undertow. John tried the gun two more times, then snarled coldly, “I will deliver it by hand.” He slid the long projectile from the barrel and started the zodiac’s motor.

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I Wanted To Punch John’s Smirking Face

  • by jenagainst the shimmering water
  • Karma? What a crock of shit.
  • I had almost forgotten the treasure
  • as hilarious as you would expect
  • Yeah, this story is going exactly where you were hoping it wasn’t

Tune In Next Time Part 1

I wanted to punch John’s smirking face. He winked and said, “Yeah, this story is going exactly where you were hoping it wasn’t, and it’s about as hilarious as you would expect.”

He’d been talking so long I had almost forgotten the treasure that was supposed to be buried somewhere near the boardwalk pilings that stood out against the shimmering water like stiff dead fingers. The boardwalk was long gone, of course, along with the partnership John and I formed so many years ago, before he betrayed me and ran off with both my woman and the treasure map, leaving me for dead.

Karma? What a crock of shit. If karma existed, I’d be the one sitting in the zodiac with Tessa and a harpoon gun, and it would be John standing in water up to his chest with cinderblocks chained to his ankles as the tide came in.

He was leaving me for dead again, and it looked like this time it would stick.

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I Had Thought Myself Alone

by jen

  • alone in a small boat upon the broad Atlantic
  • crouching in frozen fear
  • unfolding the flag of the United Kingdom
  • “You don’t have to eat it.”
  • to emerge from the Caribbean

I had thought myself alone in a small boat upon the broad Atlantic when I first heard the voice coming from belowdecks. Now I huddled in the stern, crouching in frozen fear as an apparition rose through the gangway, my numb fingers unfolding the flag of the United Kingdom in a vain attempt to hide myself.

“You don’t have to eat it.”

That was all it said, over and over, in its waterlogged whisper, the terrible sound burrowing into my brain.

“You don’t have to eat it,” it said again, waving a rotten lime in my terrified face. “But if you don’t, you’ll get scurvy!”

I screamed at this sudden new vocalization for that was the moment I knew I was being haunted by Captain Archibald Bloodygums, the ghastliest sea ghost ever to emerge from the Caribbean.

If I didn’t eat the wretched lime I would incur his wrath and my little yacht would surely sink, and me with it. If I did eat it, I would join his ghastly crew for all eternity.

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There’s No Way To Predict

  • it’ll pull, you know what I’m saying?
    k-avatar
  • air quotes practically crackled
  • he was genuinely ugly
  • thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow
  • rendered him master of far mightier muscles than his own

“There’s no way to predict how much it’ll pull, you know what I’m saying?”

I did not know what he was saying, but I could smell ozone and grease. The engines’ whine made conversation nigh impossible, and with such a charge in the air, quotes practically crackled with urgency.

“We have no choice,” I shouted into his calm face. He nodded and deactivated the autopilot, giving me full manual control of our lumbering, wallowing vessel. Everyone told us it would be bad luck to break with tradition and use a male name, but everything about the boat told us its name was Archie. He was genuinely ugly, and probably the toughest thing afloat. Archie was a brute among icebreakers and minesweepers, virtually indestructible.

But that didn’t make him unsinkable, and his steering was as genuinely ugly as he was. It pulled quite a bit, as a matter of fact, with the hydraulics cut out of the equation. The storm’s mountainous waves tossed us like a soda bottle. Gales whipped snow and spray across our decks. I concentrated on not smacking directly into any icebergs, although how I would see them through the blizzard I had no idea. I thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow, tuning my mind to the weather gods’ plane for guidance.

“I fixed it,” he said simply, flopping into the other seat and reengaging the autopilot. “Tell me which way to point us.” I loosened my grip on the helm, feeling only then the ache in my hands and shoulders. My companion showed no strain, now that the systems were repaired. The hydro-assist patched into the helm rendered him master of far mightier muscles than his own.

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Aarto Hammersmith Was a Tall Norwegian Man

  • by jena pair of filthy feet
  • an enormous cantilevered balcony
  • a bin of oval fish
  • On a sailboat?
  • Free-Range Antelope Chops
  • a tall Norwegian

Aarto Hammersmith was a tall Norwegian man with blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a penchant for sailing inherited from his viking forefathers. Standing on the prow of a ship made Aarto feel like he had discovered an enormous cantilevered balcony over the fjords of his homeland.

When the ship docked in Tokyo harbor it took on several passengers and a bin of oval fish of a type Aarto had never seen before. Intrigued, he tracked down the owner of the bin to ask what the odd oval fish were called. He found her sitting on the deck, dangling a pair of filthy feet through the railing. They were, in fact, her own feet, which was good news to Aarto because she was gorgeous: a beautiful Japanese marine biologist named Hiromi Sakai. They spent the afternoon together talking fish and falling in love. That night at dinner Hiromi, explaining that she never ate the fish she adored, ordered Free-Range Antelope Chops.

Antelope chops? thought Aarto. On a sailboat?

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Sally Was No Longer Certain

  • k-avatarHow observant the females
  • slipping cautiously into the mist
  • wrong end first, only compounded the confusion
  • letting her own need flower
  • exclamations crowded her brain
  • overhanging the poop deck
  • a rumbling chuckle ruffled her curls

Sally was no longer certain she should have come on the voyage, and the sight of Alphonse’s vessel slipping cautiously into the mist, wrong end first, only compounded the confusion in her mind. She raised the spyglass, leaning far out over the railing overhanging the poop deck, but the heavy mist made the instrument useless. Alphonse and his ship had vanished.

A rumbling chuckle ruffled her curls, and she cursed the rat-sneak who styled himself captain of this tub, but not aloud. He had an eerie way of sneaking up behind her. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“How observant the females, and still, ah, vot is the word…” the grizzled Russian stared off into the ice-choked distance. “Stupid. Yes.”

Exclamations crowded her brain, and Sally’s eyes widened, but she checked her indignant reply.

“I brought you nice coat. Sealskin and arctic fox.”

Sally hadn’t felt cold, too intent on Alphonse’s fate, but now realized she was shivering violently. Hating herself for accepting anything from the vile captain, she reached for the garment and greedily shrugged into it. The captain chuckled again.

Sally hid her tears in fox fur. Alphonse had been content back home on the farm, but she had needed an adventurous man. And now she stood here, freezing, alone, sorry for letting her own need flower into her beloved’s doom.

 

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