voice, “and you men follow with our things so I can make sure you tote them properly.”
Porting assignments completed, at last the Star’s passengers appeared at the entrance to the gangway, three women and one man, each milling about as if deciding who should lead the way. Or perhaps uncertain as to which one would be brave enough to traverse the steeply sloping twenty foot plank. The matriarchal leader took the situation in hand once again. “Eleanor, dear, you go first. And watch your step.”
A slim woman in a dark green traveling suit climbed the stairs to the gangway, took hold of the rope guide and cautiously took her first steps toward land.
Though the woman made an interesting picture heading toward shore, Jacob’s keen gaze darted to movement on one of the mooring lines attached to the stern of the Star . A Key West wharf rat, one of many renowned for their acrobatic skills, had jumped onto the rope from the dock and was racing toward the gangway in the center of the ship. The single-minded rodent no doubt intended to make its way to the galley for a snack, and would be no happier to come face to face with humans than they would be to meet him.
Jacob anticipated the inevitable encounter. He jumped up from his chair and leapt over the railing separating Teague’s from the harbor. He intended to warn the woman called Eleanor of a possible trauma to her delicate sensibilities should she be the squeamish type as most women were when it came to nine inch rats. What he didn’t count on was the reaction of two additional members of the animal kingdom, both of whom were every bit as aware of the rat as he was.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. Dogs snapped and yapped in feral excitement. A woman screamed. Eleanor in the green suit stopped half-way down the gangway. A pair of furry cannonballs propelled themselves from the screaming woman’s arms. The rat did exactly what it wouldn’t have done if it had been thinking clearly, which of course it wasn’t in the midst of all that racket. It leapt onto the gangway in front of the woman in the green dress.
The woman, to her credit, maintained her dignity and her footing. She appeared to have made the wise choice to let the rat have its run ahead of her to land. The dogs however had another plan. They streaked toward the woman, their cockles raised and the fur around their yapping faces laid back as if they were caught in a hurricane.
Running one on each side of her, both dogs disappeared momentarily under the hem of the lady’s dress. Their forward speed was great enough that the fabric obstruction barely slowed them down. They emerged on the other side of her skirt still blazing after their prey. And Eleanor went down on her rump.
She grasped one of the rope guidelines with both hands, which caused her to swing to the side. It was this motion, and the moisture on the gangway which proved her undoing. She slid entirely under the rope, and with feet and arms flailing in the air, she plummeted to the sea. And the female still on the Southern Star , now dogless, screamed even louder.
The billowing skirt of a green dress spread over the water at least two dozen yards off shore. Jacob knew the Gulf was no deeper than the woman’s chin at this point, however she appeared not to be aware of it. She waved her arms frantically and choked and sputtered the distressing fact that she couldn’t swim.
“Bloody hell!” Jacob swore as he tore off his boots. Then he jumped off the dock and swam for her.
She wasn’t easy to save. When he reached her, the water lapped at his chest, but the victim failed to notice he was standing. She balled the front of his shirt in her fist and tugged with all her might, nearly pulling him under.
“Blast woman, hold still!” he shouted.
Her fingers dug into his shoulderblade like sponge hooks, and she squealed in his ear. “But I…I can’t swim!”
“You can stand, can’t you?”
The question calmed her, or more likely
Porting assignments completed, at last the Star’s passengers appeared at the entrance to the gangway, three women and one man, each milling about as if deciding who should lead the way. Or perhaps uncertain as to which one would be brave enough to traverse the steeply sloping twenty foot plank. The matriarchal leader took the situation in hand once again. “Eleanor, dear, you go first. And watch your step.”
A slim woman in a dark green traveling suit climbed the stairs to the gangway, took hold of the rope guide and cautiously took her first steps toward land.
Though the woman made an interesting picture heading toward shore, Jacob’s keen gaze darted to movement on one of the mooring lines attached to the stern of the Star . A Key West wharf rat, one of many renowned for their acrobatic skills, had jumped onto the rope from the dock and was racing toward the gangway in the center of the ship. The single-minded rodent no doubt intended to make its way to the galley for a snack, and would be no happier to come face to face with humans than they would be to meet him.
Jacob anticipated the inevitable encounter. He jumped up from his chair and leapt over the railing separating Teague’s from the harbor. He intended to warn the woman called Eleanor of a possible trauma to her delicate sensibilities should she be the squeamish type as most women were when it came to nine inch rats. What he didn’t count on was the reaction of two additional members of the animal kingdom, both of whom were every bit as aware of the rat as he was.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. Dogs snapped and yapped in feral excitement. A woman screamed. Eleanor in the green suit stopped half-way down the gangway. A pair of furry cannonballs propelled themselves from the screaming woman’s arms. The rat did exactly what it wouldn’t have done if it had been thinking clearly, which of course it wasn’t in the midst of all that racket. It leapt onto the gangway in front of the woman in the green dress.
The woman, to her credit, maintained her dignity and her footing. She appeared to have made the wise choice to let the rat have its run ahead of her to land. The dogs however had another plan. They streaked toward the woman, their cockles raised and the fur around their yapping faces laid back as if they were caught in a hurricane.
Running one on each side of her, both dogs disappeared momentarily under the hem of the lady’s dress. Their forward speed was great enough that the fabric obstruction barely slowed them down. They emerged on the other side of her skirt still blazing after their prey. And Eleanor went down on her rump.
She grasped one of the rope guidelines with both hands, which caused her to swing to the side. It was this motion, and the moisture on the gangway which proved her undoing. She slid entirely under the rope, and with feet and arms flailing in the air, she plummeted to the sea. And the female still on the Southern Star , now dogless, screamed even louder.
The billowing skirt of a green dress spread over the water at least two dozen yards off shore. Jacob knew the Gulf was no deeper than the woman’s chin at this point, however she appeared not to be aware of it. She waved her arms frantically and choked and sputtered the distressing fact that she couldn’t swim.
“Bloody hell!” Jacob swore as he tore off his boots. Then he jumped off the dock and swam for her.
She wasn’t easy to save. When he reached her, the water lapped at his chest, but the victim failed to notice he was standing. She balled the front of his shirt in her fist and tugged with all her might, nearly pulling him under.
“Blast woman, hold still!” he shouted.
Her fingers dug into his shoulderblade like sponge hooks, and she squealed in his ear. “But I…I can’t swim!”
“You can stand, can’t you?”
The question calmed her, or more likely
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