From the depths
of Jimmy Loong
End June 2015
Completed in end
of January 2020
It was the same with the Lone Ranger too. I did apologize for my oversight and nastiness to post the tales then. Since then, I have made my mind to post after I completed the whole tale.
“Dos i chwarae efo dy nain…” The Corporal cursed in his own words. It was Welsh for go fuck your granny.
Onto the tale, it was one of my efforts then to try the steampunk genre. It was tough but fun. Its a matter of explaining the mechanical parts that overwhelm me at times but fun to learn those new designs.
And here its, the final cut in 2020 done some weeks ago.
Cheers
Book 1
"The fishermen know that
the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these
dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore."
— Vincent Van Gogh, Painter
1.
The
Surface
The
carriage that pulled away from the high gates was not grandeur in design but
more to a hearse design with its extended wagon space. The carriage was steered
by the pilot with the lone handle and the foot was on the pedals. It was the
norm for these steam-operated contraptions and its operator preferred to be
named as drivers. They were differentiating themselves from the horsemen with
the oat fed geldings. Their contraption was fuelled by the coal-burning steam engine
that works the gears and screws when the hot steaming turbine at the rear
released the steam into the engine. No
one cares that the contraption may be contributing to the smog that was already
suffocating the city. If it was, it was only a meager amount compared to the
large chimneys of the factories that we're churning out the needed for the
growing population there.
The
carriage was a six-seater with the coal-driven steamer in the front, looking
like a train steamer but with the shorter boiler upfront. The carriage was
supported by six sets of wheels of which four was supporting the boiler with
the pilot compartment. The rear was the passenger’ wagon separated by the leather-lined compartment wall to keep the heat off. That carriage was modified for only
two seating with a table laid across it then lined with rolls of drawings on
paper over the stacks of crates. As mentioned earlier, the carriage was akin to
a hearse for it lacked all the fineries of the drapes and cushions that adorned
the other passenger driven contraption and it also lacks the drinks counter.
Lord
Henry Huggins was not a generous Lord when it comes to the plush and comfort. The
man was still looking in his prime with the wide shoulders and trimmed chest despite
his late fifties age. He hardly drinks with his strict high vegetation diet. He
was a retired General some years back due to a bad leg from a fall off his horse.
Since then, he had distanced himself from that infernal four-legged riding
beast, as in his exact words.
His
Lordship on retirement, however, had not dwindled on his brilliant mind that was to
do wonders for the military in inventions. With his retirement, he had indulged
himself in developing what he termed as military assisted designs to further
mankind in the new frontiers. He was by no means fearful of funding for his inventions
for his late father had left him a fortune in the family estate.
“Watch
out for those bloody holes, your son of an oaf.” His Lordship had had his
writing ink spilled on the paper roll. He swabbed at it before it dried and
then scratched at it to highlight the earlier details. He cursed at the driver for
the mishap although it would have helped if he had paddled the carriage with
some springs and cushions. It costs more to add those units. His nature of
longing for the hard boards and tacks from his military days.
“Nothing
beats a good night sleep on the hard boards.” His Lordship always beamed that
in the morning.
His
Lordship leaned out of the carriage window and hollered to his servants who
were doing the paces at the rear. They were soldier mates of his but they were
ranked way below him. His Lordship had them riding the fine horses he bred.
“Stewart”,
The Lordship called out to his butler and personal aide riding a grey gelding with
the back upright on the saddle. “Did you pack the extra set I asked of you?”
“Aye,
your Lordship.” The ex-Sergeant Major voiced back with his deep baritone voice
that was used once before to rouse up the sleepy heads in the barracks. “It’s
in the box marked “Extras”.
“Good,
old chap. Keep in pace.” Lord Henry then popped his head in but he had to annoy
the driver. He pulled at the metal cup that had a wire linked to the driver’s
compartment. He depressed the switch which will light up the lamp there to
signal the driver. It was the only method to alert the driver above the loud
noise from the coal engine.
“What’s
my time of arrival, Jones?” His Lordship was a man with precision with his time
and action. He does everything on a timely basis including his indulgence in
the game of bridge. He hurries the others in the game so that he could complete
the game within the scheduled hour. He was all about timing and carries two
watches plus a stopwatch with him at all times.
“It’s
all about timing, my good chaps.” That was his Lordship favorite quote. There was
a standing joke that his Lordship probably shagged with the precise number of
strokes. He was not married but he has been associated with several ladies
of fine standings. They have moved on but none of them complained of their
relationship except one that was rumored to say the Lordship held a hard baton.
It was never elaborated which or what but it was the hush of the servants he
rode them harder than the stable studs.
“We
should be there soon, my Lordship.” Jones was formerly a Corporal who never
made it beyond that rank due to insubordination. The man was a fine chap from
the southern island and was built with a tall lanky frame that had on his
accolades in the fighting rings then. His left hook was the subject of his
bouts. Nevertheless, the Corporal had been a fine guard for his Lordship as a
personal guard with the gallant protection when attacked. His Lordship retained
the Corporal as well as the Sergeant Major for their loyalty and strength.
“Scram
it, you miscreant for a Welsh. I have a scheduled appointment there”, his
Lordship picked up his watch on the vest pocket to check. “In bloody ten
minutes.”
“I
can’t push the steamer any more, my Lordship.” Those ending words held a twang
of cynical tone. “Your servant had got us some lower grade coals. Probably had
soot over his sight when he parted the shillings. My Clarks and Guinness’ are
moaning through the shafts.”
“Screw
your clangs and gears.” His Lordship snapped back with his barroom tone. “I
will have you flogged for your remarks.”
“Dos i chwarae efo dy nain…” The Corporal cursed in his own words. It was Welsh for go fuck your granny.
“I heard that, your oaf. I have relatives in your sodden hills too.” His Lordship was getting nowhere with the argument and decided to shut it off. He slumped back into his leather seat and huffed on his self-wrapped paper with tobacco. He picked it up from his lads in the ranks and was hooked. He disliked the wrapped prick long cigars for they lack the smoke he needed.
The
Depth
The deep fishing ship named the Sea King was pushed to the limit by the
battering waves of the North Sea. The hull was constructed with welded steel
construction with a raised foredeck and the steel top house placed on it. The
stern was designed with elliptical design while its bow was flared. The ship
consists of three decks; the main deck, spaces below that and the storage below
the decks.
The
upper deck held the forward weather deck with the wheelhouse. The latter also
served as the navigation bridge with the captain and first officer’s mess. The weather deck is stocked with the fishing and
harpoon equipment, deck cranes and hatches to the lower holds and machinery
below deck. The machinery deck is divided into seven large compartments for
storage. There was the forward collision bulkhead essential for the ship
journey which also holds the saltwater ballast tank. At the stern was the
refrigeration and main propulsion steamer engines which powered the deep
fishing ship. Its steam was released through the ship’s funnel above the
engine. The coal holding areas were next to the main engines. The deep fishing
ship has two high beams that support the sails needed when the winds were
blowing or to save on the coals. The two beams were upright with its sails
wrapped around the trunk. It could be unfurled in minutes and the billowing
winds will sail the deep fishing ship on its journey.
On
that morning, the Sea King was greeted by the fifteen feet high waves that
were flooding the decks with water. The sea waves are generated by the low-pressure areas where the gusts of wind will push the crest to its limit. As the
volume of the water accumulates and the wind increasing n velocity, the crest
of the wave will soar higher. It’s when the crest of the wave falls down that
creates the strong energy force that resembled a solid wall that could crush on
the person. The difference is that the next crushing blow may be just seconds
away. It was the works of the sea to show its prowess.
The
seas have never been tamed by Man, unlike the solid lands. Here the saltwater
ruled the wide surface with its temperamental storms. The man had battled it with
solid structures that extend to the water depths but it only reached a small
fraction in reclaiming the sea. Its flaw was the need to hold anchor to the
main solid land or it may be swept away. Then Man has had designed the sea
surfing structures they called boats and ships if its larger but those are
just mere toys structure when the sea flexed its irritation.
The
Sea King has been fighting the waves for over ten years since its launch and
with its bruising refit that took over three times during that decade, it had
ranked it as a hero among the other ships. It was on its thirty-three
expeditions voyage, then after two months of sea surfing, she was returning home
to port with the catches in the hold. She had been harassed on her return with
the sea calling for its captured inhabitants but the Sea King was adamant to
make it to port. She fought and raked her way past those storms and ever
determined to make it home. During the last three days and nights, the See King
had shouldered the sea conditions.
Captain
Arthur Kendrick Rodriquez stepped in from the storm into the wheelhouse where
his first mate was still holding the steering of the ship. Each step taken from
the lower deck and onto the storming water flooded the main deck was a hellish trip
by itself. He had to anchor himself to the safety ropes and pulled him past the
swelling waves. Each blow of the wave was like being given a ring fight brawl
with him against four others. His yellow pantsuit was all soaked to the
inside. It was freezing cold from the saltwater but he knew that his real
motivation was the wheelhouse with the hidden cache of hard liquor and a gentle
lady to speak to.
“How’
the chappies at the aft?” First Officer Stacy Rowles called out when the
Captain stepped in. The First Officer was a young lady who had lived most of her
time on the boat or overboard since she was five. She was hardly what you may
term as beautiful with the weather-beaten expression but her short reddish
cropped hair and the sturdy feminine body was a feisty figure to stare at. When on shore leave, she took part in the
long runs or hiking up rough trails. He had most men beaten to the finish line.
On her seafaring trips, she had shed her tight shorts and tees for the thick
flat straight rubbery yellow hoodie pantsuit and Wellington boots.
“I
won’t recommend a stand-up fuck there with the waves churning our guts.”
Captain Arthur replied while staggering to his honorable seat. He was a stout
rough and huge build wrestler frame crammed into the same yellow pantsuit but
his head was covered by the salted washed Captain’s hat. His face was caked
with the two weeks old beard while his eyes brows dug into his forehead to give
him a snarling look. He stood tall at nearly seven feet which literally mold
him into the giant category. He reached for the hidden bottle of hard liquor
and drowned himself half of it to stop the body from chattering with the cold.
“So
Elise giving the new guy the standing ovation, huh?” Elise was the cook and
besides cooking, she was the only one that would fancy a fuck on the stormy
deck. She once told Stacy, that given the choice on a boring journey of over
two months, the next best thing to do was getting laid by the crew members. She
has plenty of offers given that there were only two of them who were ladies on
the decks with the nut holes unless you fancy a butt plug, then you need not
concern on the boobs and focus on the butt...
“Isn’t
much they can do for now.” The Captain took to his seat on the wheelhouse. He
was born to sail like his forefathers and their’ before. His blood lineage was
from the breeds of sailing greats of the Spaniards and the English. His
grandfather told him that two things matter on the ship; the liquor and then
the ship. Both will save your life.
“I
thought you and that Arnold chap was sizzling then.” Arthur beside his great
sailing skills somehow had a bad thing for a conversation piece. Stacy frowns her
hard creases while her stare was on the next rise of the wave. Arnold was the
new crew member who had joined the Sea King for the fishing expedition. His
last ship went down with three-quarters of the crew but he was rescued along
with the others. He was also the one showering Elise with the fucking sojourn. The
sleeping quarters were cramped and for a rendezvous of sex, the parties are not
ignored even at plain sight. He did fancied men but none did of him.
“He
was but on the Sea King, I am frigid like the Snow Queen. My only lover is the
sea. Here we get fucked on every rise of the wave.” Stacy replied. She was every
bit part of the Sea King while it plowed through the wave. If the deep
fishing ship gets swept on its port or starboard, she will list it over by the
wave. It was crucial timing on how you ride with the wave or over it.
“I
heard that we got a new adventure when we hit the port.” Stacy cut in without
hesitation. They have been on the expedition for over two months then and were
on the returning voyage. Captain Arthur took up his silver flask of the hard
liquor and whooshed down its remaining content with one gulp.
“It
won’t be what you think of. I heard that we won’t be sailing per se but
actually submerging.” Captain Arthur replied. “I dinna care. I am retiring soon
after.”
“Submerging?
Heck, I have not done that before since Brutus tried to drown me in the bath.”
Stacy laughed. She recalled that incident but poor Brutus lost his desire for
any sexual assault after she knifed him at his groin. It does not pay to do by force
when it comes to Stacy. She carries her diving dagger strapped on her left thigh
even during her sex acts.
It
was then Captain sighed when he realized soon he was to miss the danger of
sailing on the high seas.
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