I landed on the bed. I was wasted. I have never thought of having s*x
on a ship in my wildest imaginations. However, it has happened.
I wouldn't know what brought the memory of the sailing story dad told
me while I was very young. He was a well-traveled man. Over the sea
many times. He told me of the first he went aboard a ship to travel.
I was obviously dreaming. Dad said, as the hour for sailing
approached, the activities on the pier were past describing. The
Captain, Roy, had thought the stevedores worked fast when he saw them.
If he could have watched them now he would hardly have believed his
eyes. Hour after hour, in unending streams they rushed down the
gangplanks with their enormous loads. Drays came and went.
Drivers swore frantically at their horses and at one another. Motors
honked and roared. Boxes and bales crashed to the floor of the pier
shed with resounding thumps. The little hand-trucks rattled
incessantly over the uneven planking. Donkey-engines and steam-winches
clanked and shrieked, and the derricks groaned and creaked as load
after load was hoisted aboard. Every hand that could be employed in
loading was working at top speed. The scene would have delighted Roy.
But, like the coal-passers, the stevedores, the truck-men, the crew,
and everybody else about the ship, he, too, was working at top speed.
It seemed as though each one of the scores of men who were toiling
about the ship was determined that the ship should sail on time….
'blaaaaaahhhh….' The dream was cut short by the blast of the emergency
siren on the ship.
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