shortage of ports for you to call on,” I reply. “Just how did she come into your hands, if you don’t mind my asking? You strike me as more seaman than merchant.”
Captain Hanford pauses in his answer and gives me a sideways look, as if sizing up my inquiry. But nothing lies behind my question other than curiosity, and Danae and I sip our wine as we listen to the captain.
“Just so. I lost my parents when I was a wee tyke barely able to stand, more years ago that I’d care to count. My uncle is the businessman, and he raised me. When I was old enough, I worked one of his fishing boats. My boat was always the first out and the last in, and we held every record in Entiak. But I digress.
“Like all good tales, this one begins with a bet and a race. The previous owner of The Seawitch, as she was called then, sailed into port one day and had a rousing good time in one of the dockside taverns. Being more adventurous than wise, the fool boasted how fast his ship was and dared anyone to race him. It was his misfortune that one of Entiak’s founding fathers was present that evening, and staked his own fastest ship. The challenge was a winner-take-all race around an outlying isle and back, to leave within the hour. What the luckless captain didn’t know was that at that time of year, a dense fog rolled into port every morning just before dawn.
“To her credit, The Seawitch did round the point first, but on the return leg the fog rolled in. Lost in unfamiliar water, the captain ran the poor ship aground on some shoals and staved in the starboard side. Her crew made it ashore, but needless to say, the ship lost the race.”
“So your uncle was the founding father, then?” Danae asks.
“Not at all,” Hanford laughs. “The winner had little appetite for a prize that required costly repairs. So he gave the vessel—as she lay on the shoal—to my uncle in exchange for two head of steer. A couple of weeks later, a neap low tide exposed the opening just long enough for us to put a temporary patch in place. Mind you, for the next eight hours a dozen of us bailed as if the hounds of hell were nipping at our balls, but we brought her into a dock where she could be repaired. A couple months later, I re-christened her Lady of the Mist in memory of the fog that brought her to me. Anyway, enough about how the Lady and I met. Tell me how you two lovers met.”
I do not miss a beat, but Danae fumbles her wine goblet, and the liquid splashes across her abdomen, creating a scarlet stain that looks like she was stabbed. It is almost as red as her face. I take the goblet as I hand her a napkin, and slide my chair back.
“I’m afraid the tale is not nearly as romantic as you might imagine,” I say as I stand up and hold my hand out to Danae. “Sweetheart, I think we’d better get you out of that dress so it can be soaked. If you’ll pardon us, Captain?”
“Why, certainly, of course.” Captain Hanford stands up as we depart, and hands me a lit candle that I take to our quarters next door.
Once I have our candle lamp lit, I hang a sheet across the cabin so Danae can change. The crisp silhouette of her unclothed body on the linen reminds me of that first night, when she pushed me down onto the cot hungrily. I feel a hard stirring as I recall her warm, soft lips when we kissed in the chapel.
But at the delicious thought of her hard nipples, I turn away and banish the image. It has only been a few days since that passionate encounter, but much has happened since then, and that encounter was at a different time and place. I will not let lust ruin my friendship with Danae.
That ill-conceived tryst occurred when I thought there was no chance that I could ever return to Sarah, before I believed I would actually recover an Intellinet generator. Now, Danae is my travelling companion, we have a business arrangement, and I have got a job to do.
What happened between us that night burnt down along with her house.
* * *
When I
Captain Hanford pauses in his answer and gives me a sideways look, as if sizing up my inquiry. But nothing lies behind my question other than curiosity, and Danae and I sip our wine as we listen to the captain.
“Just so. I lost my parents when I was a wee tyke barely able to stand, more years ago that I’d care to count. My uncle is the businessman, and he raised me. When I was old enough, I worked one of his fishing boats. My boat was always the first out and the last in, and we held every record in Entiak. But I digress.
“Like all good tales, this one begins with a bet and a race. The previous owner of The Seawitch, as she was called then, sailed into port one day and had a rousing good time in one of the dockside taverns. Being more adventurous than wise, the fool boasted how fast his ship was and dared anyone to race him. It was his misfortune that one of Entiak’s founding fathers was present that evening, and staked his own fastest ship. The challenge was a winner-take-all race around an outlying isle and back, to leave within the hour. What the luckless captain didn’t know was that at that time of year, a dense fog rolled into port every morning just before dawn.
“To her credit, The Seawitch did round the point first, but on the return leg the fog rolled in. Lost in unfamiliar water, the captain ran the poor ship aground on some shoals and staved in the starboard side. Her crew made it ashore, but needless to say, the ship lost the race.”
“So your uncle was the founding father, then?” Danae asks.
“Not at all,” Hanford laughs. “The winner had little appetite for a prize that required costly repairs. So he gave the vessel—as she lay on the shoal—to my uncle in exchange for two head of steer. A couple of weeks later, a neap low tide exposed the opening just long enough for us to put a temporary patch in place. Mind you, for the next eight hours a dozen of us bailed as if the hounds of hell were nipping at our balls, but we brought her into a dock where she could be repaired. A couple months later, I re-christened her Lady of the Mist in memory of the fog that brought her to me. Anyway, enough about how the Lady and I met. Tell me how you two lovers met.”
I do not miss a beat, but Danae fumbles her wine goblet, and the liquid splashes across her abdomen, creating a scarlet stain that looks like she was stabbed. It is almost as red as her face. I take the goblet as I hand her a napkin, and slide my chair back.
“I’m afraid the tale is not nearly as romantic as you might imagine,” I say as I stand up and hold my hand out to Danae. “Sweetheart, I think we’d better get you out of that dress so it can be soaked. If you’ll pardon us, Captain?”
“Why, certainly, of course.” Captain Hanford stands up as we depart, and hands me a lit candle that I take to our quarters next door.
Once I have our candle lamp lit, I hang a sheet across the cabin so Danae can change. The crisp silhouette of her unclothed body on the linen reminds me of that first night, when she pushed me down onto the cot hungrily. I feel a hard stirring as I recall her warm, soft lips when we kissed in the chapel.
But at the delicious thought of her hard nipples, I turn away and banish the image. It has only been a few days since that passionate encounter, but much has happened since then, and that encounter was at a different time and place. I will not let lust ruin my friendship with Danae.
That ill-conceived tryst occurred when I thought there was no chance that I could ever return to Sarah, before I believed I would actually recover an Intellinet generator. Now, Danae is my travelling companion, we have a business arrangement, and I have got a job to do.
What happened between us that night burnt down along with her house.
* * *
When I
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