Chapter 8

James slowly emerged from a very pleasant erotic dream ... to find himself living a very pleasant erotic dream with Beth’s lips sliding up and down his morning erection. When he stirred, she looked up and saw his eyes were open.

“Oh, goodie! You’re awake... “ straddled him and lowered herself on him.

He just luxuriated in the pleasure for several minutes, smiling, before reaching to stroke her hips, her waist and cup her breasts.

“Just love your breasts...”

“They’re too small.”

“They’re perfect. Don’t contradict me, or I shall have to punish you.”

She didn’t reply, she was too busy working her way towards an orgasm. He felt her clamp down on him as she reached it, pulled her down and rolled over on top of her, still embedded. She was still sensitive as he began to move and experienced an escalating series of orgasms until he finally reached his own. Rolling to the side, he continued to hold her close.

“I suppose we’ll slow down a bit eventually,” he smiled at her, “but you’re one sexy woman.”

“That’s as maybe. Right now I need to get ready for work. Not that I’d mind company in the shower...”

“What about a cooked breakfast ... you might need the energy, especially if you’re going to be dealing with youngsters from the Ashcroft Centre.”

“That’s true ... mind you, rather them than the spoilt brats we get sometimes on the commercial outings; at least they usually get stuck in and learn something. Can’t I have both?”

“If you’ve got time ... I’ve got the inclination.”

“That’s an old one...” she laughed. “Come on!”

Beth was ... rather later leaving than she intended, but satisfied and fortified, she didn’t regret it at all...

James had several small jobs for old customers during Friday. Each commented how well and cheerful he was looking, and without exception expressed delight when he said he’d just got engaged. He did suspect that in one case, a divorcée of about his own age, that the delight was just a little insincere...

Friday afternoon, he got a call from Amy.

“I got Serenity back in the water this week. Jenni tells me Beth’s away for the weekend; I was wondering if you’d care to spend the weekend with us? Leave the Ferry tonight on the first of the ebb, watch and watch down to Mersea, or Bradwell, and let the kids loose on shore Saturday, aiming to be back here tea-time Sunday.”

“You do know I’m a dinghy sailor, don’t you?”

“Not a problem. There’s nothing about a keel boat on the open sea you can’t handle. Of course, if you can’t cope with me and the kids...”

“Don’t be daft, girl! I’d love to spend the weekend with you and the kids. I just don’t want you to think I know more than I do.”

“That’s alright; it’s about time you tried some real sailing.”

“Come on, Amy, you know better than that. Jenni told me you learned in a Wanderer and that there’s nothing unreal about managing a dinghy at sea!”

“Just teasing, Jamie. Will you come? Tea about six, under way by seven?”

“You’re on. I’ll be there by seven.”

Beth joined Emily Jane before eleven having collected her gear from her flat and on arrival was introduced to a new crew-member.

“Beth, meet Terry; he’s just come down from Uni. He wants to do youth work, but likes sailing; we’ve taken him on as third-hand – it’ll look good on his CV.”

“Terry, I told you about Beth, our Mate. She was a pretty experienced sailor before starting with Thames barges ... knows her stuff ... I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t get her master’s ticket next season. Shadow her, and she’ll show you the ropes.”

“Hi, Beth ... good to meet you. I’ll definitely agree that you’re pretty.”

“Thanks, Terry, though that wasn’t what Pete meant and you know it. For your information, I got engaged last week, so I’m afraid I’m unavailable.”

He grinned and shrugged. “Ah, well, it was worth a try.”

“How are you at heights?”

“I’m okay – done some climbing.”

“That’s good. Spritsail barges don’t usually need a lot of climbing, not like square-rigged ships, but the tops’l needs to be dealt with, and sometimes blocks jam and climbing is necessary. I can do it, but I’m not keen. Let’s get up to the cross-trees and take a look at the lashing.”

The necessary preparation and checks were out of the way by one ... thirteen hundred hours, got to get into the mindset ... so they made sure of their lunch before the party arrived.

Sarah and John - Beth never learned their surnames – introduced the youngsters. They were a typical, motley collection, seven boys, two girls; only one stood out. If Beth hadn’t been told they were all fourteen, she might have guessed Tom as twelve ... maybe. Scrawny, uneven haircut, a fixed scowl. Sarah caught the direction of her attention.

“Neglect, malnourished, physically and emotionally abused ... poor kid. I was astonished he wanted to come ... it’s the first time he’s responded, at all, to anything.”

Pete’s voice reached them from where he was addressing the youngsters.

“We want you to enjoy this weekend, and there’s not much to do on a sailing boat except ... sail the ship, so that’s what we’ll be doing. We need you to help us; the more you learn, the more you work, the more we can do, the further we can go, the more fun you can have. You’ll all have a chance to steer ... most of the time, it will be one of you. Using the anchor windlass and the lee-board crab-winch is hard work, and so is heaving on various ropes, all of which have special names, but we don’t expect you to hurt yourselves; we all work together and help each other. Rules. Sorry, but there are a few rules. One! Nobody, but NOBODY goes on deck on their own, ESPECIALLY at night, when you MUST wear a lifejacket. It’s much too easy to trip and fall overboard, no-one would hear and you won’t get back aboard without help. Two! Obey orders first, ask afterwards. Three! See these big curved pieces of wood across the deck? They’re called ‘horses’, and the block, the pulley controlling the ‘sheet’ – the rope to the bottom back corner of the sail, slides across it. You do not sit on it, you do not stand next to it, especially in front of it, when we’re sailing. Ever. Okay?” When there was an inadequate murmured response, Pete said, “is anyone listening to me?” He got a rather louder ‘okay’, that time. He pointed at one of the boys. “Rule one?”

“No-one on deck on their own especially at night.”

“Right. Well done!” He pointed to another boy. “Rule two?”

No answer.

“Anyone?”

One of the two girls put a hand up and he nodded at her.

“Obey first, ask second.”

“Excellent. Rule three anyone?”

Tom put his hand up. “Keep away from the ... horse ... when we’re sailing.”

“Right! Well done, Tom. Okay, people. Beth and Terry will show you around below. Bar of chocolate for the right answers, Beth, choice of milk, whole nut or nut and raisin. You’ll all have a chance to earn one over the weekend. Possibly two.”

“Right-oh, Skipper,” Beth called.

Sarah’s jaw had dropped when Tom volunteered an answer, and again when Pete remembered his name.

“There’s a turn up. Who’d have thought it. And well done to Pete for knowing the kid’s name.”

“Oh, he’s good like that. One reason he’s got the job, quite apart from his skill as skipper.”

Beth showed the youngsters the cabins, the life-jacket store ... and how to use the sea-toilets. If you know about them, you won’t need an explanation; if you don’t, you probably don’t want to know. Suffice it to say, boats have been known to be flooded when mistakes have been made with the toilet...

They got underway and left the wet-dock at six o’clock. I mean, eighteen hundred hours. They sailed down river and anchored on the Ledge, by Harwich, for the night.

James finished early, went home to change and pack for a weekend’s sailing, and was at the Ferry by eighteen hundred ... just in time for tea; sausage rolls, salad and crusty bread.

With an anticyclone in control of the weather, they had a light north-easterly wind to take them down river and out to sea. The twins were loving it and could not be shifted out of the cockpit until they could no longer keep their eyes open and Amy carried them, one at a time, below and put them to bed. Running before the light wind, they weren’t moving very fast.

“It’s going to take us over ten hours at this speed,” commented Amy. “We could anchor on the Ledge at Harwich overnight; we could be there by, oh, twenty-three hundred and get a night’s rest.”

“That’s a bit optimistic,” commented James, “with the big ships coming and going. It wouldn’t take much to disturb us.”

“You’d vote for going on, then?”

“It’s not a democracy, Amy; it’s your boat and you’re the skipper. But I’m reasonably happy to carry on. If you want to go lie down in the saloon, I can call you if I need help or advice.”

“I won’t sleep yet. I’ll go below when we’ve crossed the deep-water channel.”

They crossed the deep-water channel ... slowly ... prepared to start the motor should there be any sign of ships, but it wasn’t necessary and Amy went below just after nine, leaving James to himself. There was a curious clarity to his thoughts ... and a serenity encouraged by the chuckle of water under the forefoot; he felt truly blessed. It was slow going thanks to the current and the light wind; almost midnight when he reached the Gunfleet buoy. Should he wake Amy to do the gybe? Surely he could cope with that. Somewhat nervously he sheeted in the mainsail and turned the wheel. It was an anticlimax when the boom swung almost lazily across and he was able to sheet out and set a new course into the Wallet.

The quiet, the lack of pressure, the sounds of which he was by now hardly aware, had him almost in a dream-like state. A little after two, he caught himself nodding – the ‘start’ jerked him awake – and he secured the helm and went below to wake Amy.

“Everything okay?” She murmured sleepily.

“Fine, but I started nodding off.”

“What time is it?”

“A bit after two.”

“That’s a good long trick. Show me where we are, make me a mug of coffee and get your head down.”